The Last Measure
by DirtyFox2
Summary: The suicide mission has ended with success, but Shepard's team is left devastated. Shepard wrestles with the loss of friends and comrades while recruiting a new team to finish the fight against the Reapers. My take on ME3. Spoilers for ME2. R&R pls!
1. Remorse

_Okay, so this is my continuation of the Mass Effect saga and seeing as how we are waiting for a while until Mass Effect 3 I thought I would craft my own ME3. This story has many spoilers for ME2, so if you haven't beaten it I don't suggest reading it. I tried to detail my Shepard and the events that occurred without just blatantly spelling it out, but they should relate to what happened in ME2. Now, the start is just after the suicide mission, however, this isn't how my own personal game ended-- just how I dreamed it up for this story. _

The Last Measure

**Chapter One: Remorse**

He stood alone in the hangar, his armor crumbling and holding itself together just barely. It was marred with cracks, gashes and scorch marks. The paint was dull now, the sheen and luster of a new set of N7 armor now a forgotten sight. His face was awash with grime, dried blood and a particularly gnarly cut across his left temple. Anguish mixed with the scene to paint the face of a man who had seen enough…

Commander Shepard was quiet as he surveyed the destruction around him. The Normandy was holding together admirably after the damage the Collector ship and base had inflicted upon it. Despite the connection he had with his ship (and the remorse over the loss of the first Normandy) he seemed to show little concern for the multitude of 'injuries' it had sustained. His mind was instead wracked with a feeling of intense remorse and guilt.

He lowered himself down upon a container of supplies and not without some effort. His body and joints ached endlessly; his frame strained from the mission deemed to be suicidal. Yet he remained alive and well, save for some burns and minor superficial wounds. He could not, however, say the same for his team or his crew.

His Revenant machine gun lay motionless on the deck beside him. It's use was indispensable, it had kept him alive and as a commando it was the weapon he favored most. With it he was able to destroy the 'larva' Reaper within the heart of the Collector base-- striking the final blow with a concussive shot. Yet with all that firepower, all of his training, experience and leadership he could not bring his people home.

He exhaled heavily, his heart laden with burden and sorrow. He had never felt such an immense influx of negative feelings or terrible thoughts, even after the Skyllian Blitz and all of the fighting he encountered on Elysium. Those were bloody days, but they paled in comparison to this day and the repercussions of Shepard's actions… of his inadequacies.

"Commander…" Joker's voice interrupted the Commander's silent reverie. His tone, usually soaked in sarcasm or chiding in some manner was now light and obsequious. He was well aware of the outcome of the mission and realized his longtime commanding officer may be in a fragile state now.

"What is it, Joker?" Shepard asked plainly, rubbing his eyes thoughtlessly as he looked up to address his pilot, Lieutenant Moreau.

"The Tantalus drive is operational, the core is stable, minimal element zero contamination, heat-sinks are operating nominally, but weapons are still offline. All hull breaches have been plugged by the mass effect field which is holding-- trying to get long range communications back online since I'm assuming you'll want to update the Illusive Man on our status…" Joker was hesitant with the last portion of his status report. He wasn't sure what Shepard would want. If it was him, he'd probably want to be left alone. Oddly enough, Joker didn't find himself to be all that distraught over the loss of his comrades. He liked many of them, but preferred a solitary lifestyle in the ship's cockpit to engaging conversations down on the crew's deck. He seemed to bond more with EDI, the ship's onboard AI, than he ever did with the ship's crew or Commander Shepard's team; save for perhaps Tali'Zorah.

"Thanks, Joker," The Commander responded, he rose with some effort and rotated his armored appendage as if to stretch out his tired limb. "I think I'll clean up, keep me updated on the ship's status and let me know when you've re-established communication with the Illusive Man."

"Got it, Commander," Joker said back. He raised a brow momentarily, understandably concerned for his commanding officer's outward lack of any severe emotion. Odd that he would be able to shelve those emotions, the loss of so many people he worked so closely with had to be weighing heavily upon him and all he had to say was that he was going to get cleaned up? Perhaps it was the nature of the team; after all, many of them were considered to be the dregs of society. The unwanted, dangerous element that didn't seem to have anything positive to live for in the first place… at least outwardly. Joker shook his head and exited the hangar, carefully making his way toward the elevator that would take him back to the CIC and ultimately the ships' cockpit.

Shepard watched Joker leave and then proceeded to exit the hangar himself, scooping up his weathered Revenant machine gun on the way.

The hiss of the elevator door echoed in the empty corridor between Shepard and the entry point into his cabin. He stepped through it, the doors echoing in a similar fashion as they sealed behind him. He languidly made his way toward his bed, glancing over at his fish tank. It was void of any creatures, they had long since died. Yeoman Chambers had been kind enough to feed them while Shepard was performing operations leading up to the suicide mission, but with her capture by the Collectors that task had gone unfulfilled and was forgotten by Shepard. The fish, unfortunately, paid the price. A sad coincidence with the fate of his crew and one that Shepard could not help but lament. _Can't even keep some damn fish alive_, he thought ruefully.

He began stripping off his armor piecemeal. Each damaged portion being cast off as nearly useless now, though it had saved his life and provided him with tremendous protection during the attack on the Collector base. Now he discarded each piece as if he were attempting to shed the burdens of his 'successful' mission. First the pauldrons, then the armored bracers, then came the chest piece, and finally the greaves.

He stood momentarily in only his briefs. He made his way to his personal head and turned the shower on, rotating the knob to the left to ensure it was nice and hot. He stepped in the mirror and gazed at the reflection. He appeared exhausted and beaten, not a surprise really. He felt drained entirely. His hand slowly ran across his muscled chest, his fingers lightly grazing a deep gash from long ago-- now a gruesome scar and a reminder of past battles. Likewise a similar wound presented a grisly affliction upon his left shoulder, the result of a slug mass accelerated through the barrel of an assault rifle, another old reminder of his long and sordid career.

How had survived this long? How had he managed to accomplish all that he had done only to fail now? Certainly most would consider his mission against the Collectors a success. After all he had managed to destroy the base and eliminate the Reaper they were attempting to assemble. But to Shepard he still failed; there was practically no one to share the victory with and if he could not savor that then he felt empty and alone. Better to have died with those he led into battle…

After his shower Commander Shepard toweled off and dressed himself in his usual Cerberus attire. A form-fitting t-shirt and cargo utility trousers. He never felt the same pride wearing it as he did when he wore the uniform for the Systems Alliance. After his boots were tied he quietly shuffled his way to the elevator that took him down to the crew deck.

The doors eased open and he stepped out, his foot steps echoing on the metallic floor. He rounded the corner and found himself in the small dining area where the crew used to take their meals; it was commonly referred to as the mess deck despite only making up a small portion of the crew quarters deck.

He stood silent, solemnly surveying the sight before him. It was empty now, no laughter or conversation filled the deck. No one commenting on the cooking skills of Mess Sergeant Gardner, no one discussing the exploits of their previous mission, or exalting over the successful destruction of the Collector's base. Only the constant hum of the Normandy's propulsion reverberating off the bulkheads echoed in these empty halls.

Shepard's eyes eventually traced their way across the scene, finally resting on the Medical Bay; there was someone inside he needed to check up on.

As he entered he immediately took notice of the crumpled and seemingly destroyed body of a comrade. A familiar face and a loyal member of his team who outwardly appeared to be at peace, but in reality was in dire need of more adequate medical attention. With Dr. Chakwas gone, there no one to administer any significant care. Only immediate aide was rendered, the type of things the Alliance once taught during their Combat Life Savor and First Responder courses.

"EDI, what's his status?" Shepard asked as he arrived beside the operating table.

"He is stable, Shepard. However, he has received multiple gunshot wounds and loss of blood is significant. I have managed to alleviate any trauma caused by shock and stop the bleeding, but I am unaware if there is any internal bleeding or ruptured organs. His physiology is rugged, but he was badly mauled during the mission," EDI's now familiar voice chimed in.

"Do you have an estimate on his chances for survival?" Shepard asked morosely. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but as it was this was the only surviving member of his team and he hoped with all his heart and soul that he would survive. He rubbed his temple attempting to alleviate the stress that seemed to accumulate and then manifest itself there in the form of a splitting headache.

"Unknown. If he received primary care at a Cerberus medical facility then I estimate a thirty-six percent chance of survival. However, if more adequate care is not rendered soon than his chances are far lower. It is of the utmost importance that we proceed to such a facility with all possible haste," EDI informed him. Despite being an AI she was competent enough at displaying emotion, as he voice seemed to inflect the importance of the situation.

Shepard was silent as his eyes studied the wounds his brother-in-arms had received. He had been stripped of the armor on his upper body and lay motionless. His breathing was shallow and the EKG monitor beside the operating table indicated that he had a constant, if not, slower heart beat.

Bandages and pressure dressings spread over wounds where an abundance of blood had accumulated. Fortunately the major bleeding had been controlled and while some of his wounds still bled in some minor amount, it was no cause for alarm. Such things were common with wounds on the battlefield; what was most important was ensuring that no major arteries were hit and if they had been then it was important to halt their bleeding. Even _with_ his rugged physiology it would not take long to bleed to death.

"Garrus…" Shepard said aloud. "You've got to pull through, old friend…" he mumbled quietly. He closed his eyes for several moments. He wasn't a particularly religious man; in fact what he had seen in his life made him quite the opposite. But now, he quietly whispered a prayer for his old and dear friend, Garrus Vakarian. Someone had to answer, whether it was any of the human Gods or the turian ones; it didn't matter. All Shepard wanted was for Garrus to live.

"EDI, upload the location of the closest Cerberus facility to the galaxy map and have Joker set a course," Shepard instructed the ship's artificial intelligence.

"The information you requested has already been processed, Commander. Lt. Moreau has already plotted a course and an estimated arrival time of five hours and twenty-nine minutes," EDI quickly replied.

"Good," Shepard stated. He turned away from Garrus' seemingly lifeless body and headed for the hatch to leave the medical bay. "And EDI…"

"Yes, Commander?"

"Thanks."

"Your thanks is unnecessary, Commander," EDI responded seriously.

"All the same," Shepard added. Then he left the room, the rhythmic sound of the EKG monitor's 'beep' echoing in the empty medical bay behind him.

Shepard briskly made his way to the kitchenette where Mess Sergeant Gardner has once prepared the crew's meals. Something he did well, once Shepard had provided him with better ingredients.

He rifled through the pantries with some unknown urgency. He checked every drawer and cupboard, searching for what he believed to be hidden somewhere. After several moments of exhaustive search he gave up and leaned against the counter top exhaling with a sign of hopelessness. Then his eyes brightened for a moment and he swung open the door to a pantry he had previously checked. He ran his fingers along the back wall, knocking on the material he realized it echoed as if it were hollow. Then he found what he was looking for, a small hidden compartment.

He removed the cover and what he was searching for was revealed. Liquor. Contraband on any Alliance ship and certainly expected to be the same on this Cerberus vessel. However, Shepard was no fool and knew that every crew had hidden stashes somewhere aboard. Usually it was in the baffles between the ablative armor, but hidden compartments were also common. He'd learned that long ago during inspections while he was an officer in the Alliance fleet.

He removed a mid-grade bottle of bourbon, likely purchased on the Citadel and removed the cap. He drank a healthy swig of the half-emptied bottle. He coughed slightly as he was unaccustomed to the feeling of the fiery liquid. It had been a long time since he enjoyed the stuff. He tossed the cap on the counter top and left the kitchenette, rounded the corner and entered Miranda Lawson's quarters.

Like the rest of the ship it was empty. Miranda no longer sat behind the desk working feverishly at Cerberus reports, or updating status logs within the Normandy's systems. Now it was as barren as a newly-discovered super heated rock in space.

His eyes slowly scanned the room and his mind shrieked as it attempted to recollect the sight of her. His nostrils flared as they detected the ever-so-slight scent of her. She was a soldier, a tough operative, but she always smelled divine. A smile crept on his face at the thought and then he took another heavy hit of his bourbon. He wiped his mouth and sat down on the chair opposite her desk.

He leaned back in the chair, letting his head fall back without support. He closed his eyes and tried to remember her. He tried to remember the soft, velvety feel of her skin against his own and the tenderness of her touch. Such a wonderful feeling after so many months of hard fighting. The reality of his life was combat, death and destruction-- he was a blunt object most at home on the battlefield… killing. But she had given him back a piece of his humanity.

He had shown her that she was more than just her genetic legacy, more than just a creation and that she could attribute her successes in life to her talent along with her failures. He taught her to own her actions and accept responsibility for who she was and in return she showed him what it was like to open up his heart and let someone in again.

He almost regretted it now. His heart ached endlessly. It wasn't love, it couldn't be. Such notions seemed hard for Shepard to grasp and a thing he attributed to young people unwise to the ways of the galaxy, but it was certainly something and now it left a void like a gaping wound in his chest.

A few more pulls of the bourbon and Shepard found himself lethargically melting into the chair and before long his eyelids became heavy with fatigue and sleep, induced by alcohol, claimed him.


	2. Arrival

CHAPTER TWO: ARRIVAL

Commander Shepard awoke to the same sight he had drifted to sleep from, Miranda's empty quarters.

The bourbon bottle lay open and on it's side beside his feet, nearly empty. He rubbed his head and chin and blinked ceaselessly for a few moments as he tried to gain his bearings.

"Commander," Joker's voice broke the silence on the PA system.

"Yes, Joker?" Shepard responded, almost irritated.

"I've re-established communications with the Illusive Man; he's awaiting your report," Joker informed him.

"Thanks," Shepard said, rising to his feet. He took a moment to stabilize himself, then rubbed his head once more. The headache had not left him.

"Also, thought you might want to know we're about a half hour out from the Cerberus station," Joker continued.

"Good, squeeze everything you've got out of the Normandy. I want us there faster," Shepard replied in a commanding tone.

"You got it, Commander," Joker said back. Then the PA system cut out.

Shepard left Miranda's room, leaving the bottle where it had landed, and headed for the elevator which would carry him back to the CIC deck so that he could speak with the Illusive Man and report to him with the results of his mission. An initial after action report had been sent, but the Illusive Man would likely want a more detailed account from Shepard, or at the very least would want to comment on some of his actions.

As he entered the communications room of the Normandy he hesitated, not wishing to speak with the Illusive Man at this time. To the Illusive Man the operation would be considered a resounding success (save for the fact that Shepard had destroyed the Collector base). He would state that he regretted the loss of life, but chalk it up to necessity in order to defeat the Collectors and hinder the Reapers.

In a way he was right, but it's not what Shepard wanted to hear right now. The people who worked for Cerberus, the people that were a part of his crew and the Lazarus Cell-- they were just assets to be used by the Illusive Man in order to achieve his goals. They were all just expendable resources; Jacob, Miranda, even Shepard at some point. Anything and anyone if it meant stopping the Reapers.

Shepard let out a sigh and readied himself for the ad hoc meeting. "Joker, patch me through."

The quantum entanglement device hummed to life and a quick cascade of light illuminated and whirled before Shepard's eyes. It was truly an amazing feat, considering the fact that the two of them were light years a part.

Shepard stepped into the swirling light and suddenly found himself standing before a projected view of the Illusive Man and what he had always assumed to be the man's office. It was dark, as usual, a bright flaring star burned a churning mixture of blue and red behind the shadowy outline of the Illusive Man.

He sat in his chair, regal as ever. A spiral of smoke rose from his lips and a frosted glass of whiskey sat half empty beside his right hand. The liquid was undoubtedly far more expensive than the brand Shepard had been drinking earlier. Two ice cubes could be seen, still melting and causing 'sweat' of sorts to form on the exterior of the glass.

"Shepard… I'd like to say congratulations once more. You've managed to destroy the Collector's home. This should alleviate the disappearance of additional human colonies. You should be proud, you've saved thousands upon thousands of lives," the Illusive Man began in his distinct voice. He took a drag of his cigarette and then casually allowed the smoke to escape his nostrils.

"The mission was costly," Shepard said in reply. _Too costly, _he thought to himself.

"Indeed. I read your after action report," the Illusive Man said, his finger tapping on the illuminated screen of a data pad. "Not a single soul from the crew alive, your team dead except for the turian." The gray-haired billionaire paused for several moments as if to let these facts sink in.

"But you are a professional, Shepard, and so was every person aboard that ship. You had a mission; a very dangerous one. Every man and woman aboard the Normandy knew the risk, they knew what was at stake. We fully expected this to be a one way trip. If anything the success of your mission went better than we had planned and is a direct reflection of your abilities," the Illusive Man praised Shepard charmingly, but with little effect.

"Everyone is gone; does that mean nothing to you?" Shepard asked in an aggravated voice.

"I'm aware, Shepard," the Illusive Man retorted. He took a sip of his expensive liquor before continuing. "But the Collectors have been stopped. More importantly, however, is the fact that the Reapers are still out there. The success of this operation is only a temporary stop-gap to their ultimate arrival. It's something we need to focus on-- there will be time to mourn the loss of your team after this is all over."

"How can you be so cavalier with other people's lives?" Shepard growled.

"Shepard you truly are one of a kind," the Illusive Man began. His voice was stern. Another healthy cloud of smoke filled his lungs, before evacuating through his nostrils once more. "You achieved the impossible. You ventured through the Omega-4 relay, went on the offensive against the greatest threat in the galaxy since Saren and you won.

"Make no mistake, Commander, we're fighting a war. It may not seem like it, but you of all people should know that with wars come casualties. People are expected to make sacrifices in war and your team did just that. You can spend all day wondering if what you did had any effect on who lived or died, but in the end you have to accept the fact that they died participating in something they believed in-- something that was bigger than themselves, bigger than you, me, or even humanity. We're talking about saving all sapient life, Shepard. The stakes of this war have risen and it's far from over.

"Now, can I continue to count on you, or am I wasting my time?" he asked harshly. The Illusive Man had successfully dodged Shepard's questions. He'd skirted around the Commander's accusatory tone and immediately detected Shepard's own regretful feelings regarding the mission's outcome. His words did enough to bolster the veteran soldier for the moment.

Shepard stood silently for a few moments. He narrowed his eyes on the Illusive Man, whose own irises were bright amongst the dark backdrop he sat amidst. "I still have a job to finish… the Reapers need to be stopped at all costs," Shepard said confidently. He didn't feel it as much as it sounded, however.

"Good. I'm glad you feel that way, Shepard," another cloud of smoke rose from the shady outline of the Illusive Man.

"So what's the next step?" Shepard asked interestedly.

"Well, EDI informs me that you will be arriving at one of our main facilities in order to render appropriate care to your turian friend-- that's good. Take some time to yourself to clear your head while he recovers," the enigmatic business magnate stated. He, however, was doubtful the turian would live after reviewing EDI's report on the former C-Sec officer's vitals. He had simply endured too many injuries.

"Understood," Shepard complied.

"But Shepard, don't take too long. There's no telling when the next Reaper threat will show itself. We need to be prepared; that means assembling another team," the Illusive Man informed the commando.

With those final words the quantum entanglement communication array was shut down. The hologram before Shepard's eyes disappeared and he stepped away from the center of the room. The desk for briefings raised from the deck and a hologram detailing the Normandy's status illuminated as the center piece.

"Commander, we're making our final approach to the Cerberus station," Joker told him over the intercom.

Shepard was at the forward airlock when the Cerberus team came aboard. The first group through the door was an emergency medical unit that rushed to the elevator to retrieve Garrus' shattered body.

Behind them came an army of technicians, mechanical specialists, maintenance personnel, logistics officers and other Cerberus personnel. They surveyed the damage to the ship and were nearly in awe of Shepard, surprised that he had managed to survive.

They immediately went to work attempting to put the ship to rights. As they did, the elevator door slid open and the emergency medical team scrambled by with Garrus now firmly strapped to the gurney. They already had put an IV in him as well as an inhalator which had been forced down his throat in order to ensure he was breathing properly.

Shepard watched them take his comrade away with uneasy eyes, but as he traced their exit his view became obstructed by the figure of a young woman dressed similarly to Miranda.

The woman stepped forward, clearly in charge of this team of personnel. She shared a striking resemblance to Miranda. Enough to force Shepard to look twice. Or perhaps it was Shepard projecting what he wanted to see. Her hair was short and light brown in color. It framed a beautiful face that presented a strong jaw line that seemed to belie a silent determination and strength. Narrow, piercing green eyes looked upon Shepard, studying him as any professional operator would; measuring him up and considering what he may be capable of.

"Who are you?" Commander Shepard asked, almost indignantly.

"My name is Olivia Knightley, I am the operations chief of this Cerberus cell," she announced. She offered a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Commander. It seems you've outdone yourself once again." Her tone was even and serious. Her face seemed to lack any sign of emotion.

"Nice to meet you as well," Shepard said somewhat awkwardly, shaking the Cerberus officer's hand.

"Don't worry, we'll have your ship back in fighting shape very soon," she said with a slight grin. She was clearly proud of the abilities of the people under her command.

"I'm more worried about my friend," Shepard shot back.

"We'll see to him as well," she replied curtly. The turian's life seemed like an afterthought to her; it was obvious she was more concerned about the Normandy than she was about Garrus. Before Shepard could comment any further she turned on her heel and exited the Normandy.

Shepard raised a brow as she left. She was perplexing. Certainly a skilled member of Cerberus' team, he could tell by the way she carried herself. He couldn't help but admire her slender figure as she exited. She was athletic, to be sure.

"Who was that?" Joker interrupted his thoughts. He staggered momentarily beside the Commander, attempting to right himself despite his brittle bones.

"The boss around here, I guess," Shepard told him, scratching the back of his head.

"So what now?" Joker asked.

"Get something to eat and get some rest. I'll be in touch with you as soon as I find out what the hell is going on," Shepard declared.

The Cerberus techs were already hard at work clearing the debris within the Normandy. How long would it take for them to fix her and have her back in fighting order? Well, that didn't really matter. More importantly was whether or not they could save Garrus' life…


	3. Recovery

CHAPTER THREE: RECOVERY

Shepard awoke to an empty room void of anything of interest save for some furniture with barren drawers. The walls were a sterile white and the floors a dull gray. It was silent, nearly as bad as the vacuum of space.

A single porthole on the starboard bulkhead allowed him a view in to that sparse vacuum. He stared out of it momentarily. The emptiness of it chilled him to the bone. It was a distant memory, but he could still feel the horrible pain from his suit depressurizing two years ago. How desperate he was, what a feeling of complete despair as oxygen violently left his EVA suit. The creeping feel of the icy cold temperatures of space; temperatures so cold they would've froze him to death in a few short minutes if not for suffocating to death beforehand. He shook his head, attempting to rid himself of the macabre thoughts.

The door to his room suddenly slid open and in stepped the attractive Cerberus officer he'd met a day ago when he'd arrived, Olivia Knightley.

"How are you feeling, Shepard?" she asked with keen interest and a raised brow.

"Fine," Shepard replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

Olivia unabashedly examined his muscular frame. At the moment he stood only in a pair of sweat pants. She found his scars interesting and they no doubt caused him a great deal of pain. "How did you get those?" she asked, breaking her normally professional demeanor.

Shepard looked down and realized he was shirtless, then quickly put on a skivvy shirt. "Old wounds," he shrugged off the question.

"Not very talkative I see," Olivia replied with a minor scowl.

"What's Garrus' status?" Shepard changed the subject immediately.

"The turian? He's still in surgery. The doctors are attempting to repair severe internal damage. Could be quite costly," she told him, stepping over the porthole and gazing out into the blackness of outer space.

"I don't care about the cost, Cerberus owes me," Shepard snarled.

"Yes, yes. The Illusive Man made that clear; we are to spare no expense," she responded turning to face the Commander. "Though I can't really see the worth of a single turian."

"Watch yourself," Shepard threatened, stepping forward and narrowing his eyes on the woman. "I don't care who you are, Garrus is an old friend and his life is worth a lot more than yours."

"Take it easy, Shepard. I meant nothing by it," she exclaimed.

"The best thing for you to do right now is walk away," Shepard told her grimly.

"Hmm, are you always this pleasant to those helping you?" she asked glaringly.

"Until Garrus has recovered you're an unknown factor; that means I don't trust you-- and I keep those I don't trust at arm's distance," Shepard explained.

"But I'm with Cerberus and--"

"That means nothing. Cerberus isn't an organization I have a lot of faith in," Shepard interrupted her.

She sighed and turned for the door. "Very well. Come and speak with me when you feel the need. You can view the operating room where your friend is being cared for on the second deck. But don't disturb the doctors," she told him. She left the room, shaking her head. The encounter with Shepard hadn't gone the way she had initially intended.

Later Shepard found himself peering through the observation glass into Garrus' operation room. The turian lay motionless on the table, his eyes clinched shut as he was undoubtedly sedated so the surgeons could perform their delicate work.

Shepard watched them as they carefully plied their craft. Their gloved hands were revealed to be covered in the turian's blood and they did well to conceal their work. Shepard tried his best to see precisely what was being done, but the practitioners and assistants surrounded the table and effectively blocked any detailed view of their labor.

They had been at work for several hours and the fatigue was beginning to show. Their professionalism could hardly be doubted, however, and Shepard found it particularly interesting that Cerberus had such talented men and women in their employ. Was this organization so appealing to humans despite it's shadowy activities?

He walked away from the observation glass, not bothering with a backward glance. He hated seeing his friend in that condition. The turian was just barely clinging to life, lying upon the table so helplessly. It wasn't in Garrus' nature to be like that; he was tough, a fighter, as hardened as anyone Shepard could ever hope to work with. Beyond all of that, however, they had become like brothers. Neither of them were particularly keen on showing emotion; they were both soldiers after all. But there was a sort of mutual respect and admiration that was traded between one another with something as simple as a knowing nod of the head or a comment regarding the skills with which they dispatched their enemies.

Days went by with no change in Garrus' condition. Shepard seemed to drift through each hour listlessly, showing little in the way of his old self. He seemed empty, like the shell of the once great man he'd been. He no longer seemed to embody all of the virtues which made him great in the first place.

Joker had trouble attempting to engage him any sort of conversation; he tried everything to get the man to open up and return to a semblance of what he once was, but to no avail.

The Cerberus officer, Knightely, had detailed her observations in daily reports to the Illusive Man.

-_Lost any and all motivation to carry on. Likely unreliable for future operations._

_ -Attitude is somber, depressed even. Temper flares only when subject is engaged regarding the recruitment of a new team and the continuation of the fight against the Reapers._

_ -Apparently still distrustful of Cerberus despite all that is being done to accommodate him._

_ -Too much concern over the turian's survival._

_ -Has taken to drinking._

_ -Physical, mental, and emotional status appears to be deteriorating, recommend finding another leader to continue Shepard's work._

The reports she filed did not paint a good picture, but the Illusive Man seemed to take them only with a grain of salt. He made it clear that every necessary measure was to be taken to save the turian's life and the surgeons took him very seriously. They worked endlessly, augmenting his body with cybernetics similar to that which were now a permanent part of Shepard's own physiology. Indeed, much of the same technology utilized during the Lazarus Project was now being applied to Garrus, but his status still did not change.

Despite Knightely's suggestions the Illusive Man continued with his same plan of action. His faith in Shepard never seemed to be shaken. It was natural, after all, to suffer some sort of set back of losing so many people under one's command. He may have been a callous and enigmatic figure, but the Illusive Man was not blind to the machinations of others.

To him it seemed that the turian now represented the entirety of Shepard's crew and team. That his survival meant more than just a friend living and fighting once again, but that it was a symbol that Shepard had not utterly failed. Despite the outcome of the mission and the destruction of the Collectors base Shepard would never feel as though he performed adequately-- he just had that sort of personality and that's what made him humanity's best hope. It was that quality that he was never good enough, never ceasing to go far enough to ensure success or to guarantee survival. His utter and complete determination and his stubborn will was what would propel humanity through the dark hours ahead. These qualities were far more precious than his skill as a soldier. Certainly they were exemplary, but talented soldiers could be found in many places. It was the unseen qualities of a man that proved his worth and Shepard had them in abundance.

So the Illusive Man was keen to see Garrus recover, nearly as much as Shepard if for no other reason than because he needed Shepard back in the fight… and so he continued to tell Olivia Knightely that no expense was to be spared in making that a reality.

Shepard sat in his empty room, his eyes lacking any luster or appearance of interest in life altogether. He hadn't shaved in days, nor had he slept. Thoughts of the mission plagued him and he found the only way to avoid those thoughts was to drown them in whiskey, which Olivia was kind enough to provide despite her increasing disapproval.

Shepard swilled down a glass of the stuff quickly, now more used to it than he had been just a couple of weeks ago. It took a lot to get him where he needed to be and so he poured himself another glass.

"I hope you've got enough for the both of us," a familiar voice interrupted Shepard's sullen mood. He hastily turned to the entrance of his room to see Garrus Vakarian standing, albeit with some difficulty, in the doorway.

"Garrus!" Shepard shouted, alarmed. He rose from his chair and stepped forward then halted in place and rubbed his eyes repeatedly. He couldn't be that drunk, could he?

"Good to see you, Shepard. Although you don't seem like yourself at the moment," the turian replied in his usual mordant tone. "I could come back if I'm interrupting." 

Shepard pursed his lips for a moment and then looked behind him at the half-empty bottle of whiskey. He rubbed his neck, trying to work out a kink that days of sleeplessness seemed to have created. "I was… worried for a bit there," he exclaimed sheepishly.

"Oh come on, Shepard, I've survived a lot worse than that," Garrus replied.

Shepard grinned and the two shook hands fervently. Afterward Shepard had the unfortunate task of explaining to Garrus that no one else had survived, although the turian had not been too surprised. It seemed his memory of the mission before he lost consciousness was sharp and he had seen most of what Shepard described. Still, it was a painful revisiting of the events for the both of them and they sat in silence for a few moments.

"So what do we do now?" Garrus asked abruptly.

"Garrus, you've done enough. There's no reason for you to continue to risk your life," Shepard told him.

"I've got nothing else," Garrus admitted. Shepard was silent again for a few seconds.

"Well, the Illusive Man thinks we should assemble another team and be ready when the Reapers show themselves," Shepard informed him.

"Sounds as good as any other plan, I guess," Garrus agreed. "So where do we start?"

"I imagine that Cerberus officer, Olivia, has some information for us," Shepard commented, scratching his temple. So far he didn't particularly like her, but it appeared that she was his new Cerberus contact.

"Still working with Cerberus I see," Garrus said with a minor chuckle.

"Hey, they're the ones that put you back together, buddy," Shepard remarked.

"Yeah, tell the Man I appreciate that," Garrus grunted, referring to the Illusive Man.

So the next step was to speak with Olivia and find out exactly what steps needed to be taken in order for Shepard to get back into the swing of things and begin rebuilding a team of new and perhaps some familiar, faces in order combat the Reapers when they arrived.

One thing was for certain, he was glad to have Garrus back. There wasn't anyone he could trust in the heat of a firefight better than the former C-Sec officer. First thing was first, however, Shepard needed to clean himself and get sober before barging into Olivia's office.


	4. Preparation

CHAPTER FOUR: PREPARATION

For the next several days Shepard was consumed with nothing but re-shaping himself. He spent hours upon hours in the gym each day. He mixed heavy weight exercises with high-intensity cardiovascular workouts in order to prepare himself for what lay ahead.

Admittedly, it felt good to be back in the gym. He had let his fitness slide over the past month or so. He was far too busy with preparation for his mission through the Omega-4 relay which coupled with his recent days of brooding. All of that had left him less energetic and mentally sharp. He aimed to correct that now with his long days of exercise and an attempt to improve his diet and avoid alcohol entirely.

Likewise Garrus was making good progress with recovery. Early on he had trouble with range of motion and load bearing tasks, but after some time and diligent work he was now able to wear his old set of armor (though he'd been promised a new set). He exerted himself with each day of physical therapy and dedicated himself entirely to returning himself to his fighting prime.

All of this occurred under the watchful eyes of Olivia Knightely, who limited her contact with both of them and continued to submit daily reports back to the Illusive Man. Despite her earlier reservations about Shepard, a sort of respect began to blossom as she watched him re-dedicate himself to the cause. She began to consider all that he had seen, everything that he had endured and she started understand his earlier situation. She wasn't entirely certain she could've put herself in such a position and survived.

Nevertheless she was still rather distrustful of the turian. She never liked aliens, it was one of several reasons she had joined Cerberus. It never seemed like a good idea to put your life in the hands of another species, at least not to her. She continued to monitor Garrus' progress but was also quite suspicious of each action he took and required that he be escorted everywhere within the Cerberus facility.

After weeks of physical training (and Garrus' own therapy), Shepard finally believed they were ready to embark upon the necessary path to select a team to combat the Reaper threat.

There was a problem, however, the Reaper threat at this point was an invisible one. Shepard had no idea what the next step was, where the Reapers were coming from and when or if they'd arrive. Indeed, it was hard to say their attack would even come during his lifetime.

He did realize that more needed to be learned about the menace, though, and Cerberus was certainly the organization that would allow him to find out more. If there was one major benefit to working with Cerberus, it was the Illusive Man's seemingly limitless resources. With that in mind he proceeded to Olivia's office along with Garrus.

"Glad to see you, Commander," she greeted. "And good to see you're feeling better, Mr. Vakarian," she added insincerely, seeing Garrus step into the room behind Commander Shepard.

"What's the next step?" Shepard asked her, ignoring her greeting. He didn't trust her one bit. Miranda may have proved that someone working for Cerberus could be trusted, but this woman was an entirely different person.

"I believe the Illusive Man would like to speak to you concerning that very thing, Shepard," she replied. "In the room beside my office you'll find a quantum entanglement communications array similar to what you have aboard the Normandy. It will put you in touch with him."

"All right, he's ready to speak with me now?" Shepard asked, glancing over at the sleek steel door leading to the com-array.

"Yes," Olivia stated. "But the turian will have to wait here, with me," she exclaimed.

"No problem," Garrus interjected.

Shepard stepped inside the room and the system powered up in the same fashion as it did aboard the Normandy. He entered the swirling circle and found himself in the familiar office of the Illusive Man. The burning star still shone brightly behind the mysterious figure.

"Shepard, I've heard the good news. Excellent to see your companion recovering. He certainly is a resilient one, isn't he?" the Illusive Man began.

"Glad to see you're so compassionate," Shepard responded sardonically, stepping forward.

"Come now, Shepard, surely you don't think of me as some heartless demagogue who uses his operatives like they were nothing more than a tool," the billionaire retorted. Smoke filled his lungs for a few moments before he let a whirling cloud of the stuff rise from his opened mouth. "After all, I spent a small fortune bringing him back."

"Not at all and he's very appreciative," Shepard said back, although he did feel as though the Illusive Man only used his personnel like tools for whatever greater purpose he valued more than their lives. After all, he didn't appear to be particularly broken up about Miranda or Jacob's deaths.

"So, to business then?" he questioned.

"I need to know more about the Reapers. What can we expect their next move to be?" Shepard asked with concern.

"I wish I knew," the Illusive Man started, taking another drag of his cigarette. "But _you_ destroyed the Collectors' base along with operative Miranda. _You_ destroyed a potential treasure trove of intelligence that could've helped us better understand what we're fighting against. As it stands now, we know very little about the Reapers or what they're next move will be."

"That base was an abomination and you can't honestly expect me to believe that you wouldn't use that technology in some misbegotten way," the Commander exclaimed.

"Shepard, I've been nothing but honest with you from the beginning. This constant fear that I'm going to betray you is beginning to grow tiresome," the Illusive Man explained in an irritated tone. This statement was not entirely true, however, as he had not fully explained his thought process on many of the missions he'd sent Shepard on and had even used him as bait at one point.

"Then find someone else to carry out your suicidal missions," Shepard shot back.

There was silence between the two. Shepard could not make out the Illusive Man's face at the moment. It was shrouded in shadows. His eyes, however, peered out from that darkness in a peculiar way. They studied him… judged him.

The enigmatic business mogul took another puff of his cigarette and then a long sip of his absurdly expensive brandy. "Fair enough," he allowed.

"Our most immediate concern is equipping you with another team that can adequately combat the Reapers. I've sent several research teams through the Omega-4 relay to investigate the debris left over from the Collectors' base," the Illusive Man briefed the Commander who seemed alarmed by that news.

"How did they get through the relay in tact?" Shepard questioned.

"We reverse engineered the IFF your team used to travel through the relay in the first place. So far their research and recovery efforts have not been fruitful, but I'm confident with time we'll find something useful. In the meantime you'll need to begin assembling your team." The Illusive Man tapped off an accumulation of ash from the tip of his cigarette.

"You may also want to check your personal inbox. Over the time it took for your _recovery_ it's been bombarded with new messages; particularly from the Migrant Fleet concerning Tali'Zorah."

Shepard looked away for a moment, the name of his close ally and friend brought back a quick rush of memories. Unfortunately, with those memories came regret as he was unable to save her during their final mission through the Omega-4 relay. Of course her people didn't know about it yet; that meant Shepard would have to tell them.

He thought about that for a moment. That was a task he had to do in person. There simply was no way he could write that sort of news in a message and send it over the extranet.

After the demise of her father Shepard wasn't sure Tali had any remaining family to relate her death to. Perhaps Admiral Shala'Raan was the best person to inform. Someone had to know and he owed it to Tali to let her people know about her sacrifice.

"Then there's something I have to do," Shepard finally said in response to the Illusive Man's information.

"Very well, Shepard. The path to take is yours for now. I'll be in touch with additional information should anything useful come to light from our research on what's left of the Collectors' base," the Illusive Man exclaimed. "Olivia will be accompanying you and a new crew as been assigned to the Normandy."

"Olivia? You think I still need some Cerberus lackey keeping an eye on me?" Shepard asked sharply.

"Olivia is more than some lackey, Shepard. She's trained in all manner of small-arms, an experienced biotic, and a veteran intelligence officer. Her experience gathering information may prove to be very useful in the future, as for her combat skills she has proven herself more than adequate during simulations," The Illusive Man described the Cerberus officer's credentials.

"Simulations? She has no combat experience?" Shepard questioned with a furrowed brow.

"No, but that hardly means she's incapable. If it helps, you can think of her as a liaison between you and I. She can do all of that pesky paperwork that would otherwise have you up to your ears in stress."

"Paperwork?"

"Yes. Daily reports, fitness reports on the crew, counseling of the crew, after action reports after each mission. Surely you don't think I don't know everything about what's taking place aboard the Normandy?" the Illusive Man mused.

"I had a feeling you might," Shepard commented back, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

"Good, then it's settled."

With his final words the com-array shut down and Shepard found himself back in the sterile, empty meeting room which adjoined Olivia's office. He stood there for a moment contemplating his next move.

Going to the Migrant Fleet was going to be difficult. He was sure they'd welcome him, but passing on the upsetting news regarding Tali'Zorah was likely going to be very troubling for both the Quarian's and for Shepard.

He stepped out of the room and returned to the office where Garrus and Olivia sat quietly eyeballing one another.

"So what did the Illusive Man have to say?" Garrus questioned immediately, eager to break the awkward silence that had persisted between him and the obviously hostile Olivia.

"Cerberus is trying to gather information from the Collector base debris. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea destroying it after all," Shepard related.

"I'd agree with that assessment," Olivia added stridently.

"I believe the expression is no use crying over spilled milk, Shepard," Garrus commented.

"You're right, Garrus. For now we're going to start gathering a new team," Shepard explained to his friend, not bothering to address Olivia.

"Any idea where to begin?" Garrus asked. His arms were crossed and he stood casually leaning against the bulkhead of the office. He was clad in his new set of medium Predator armor. It was sleek looking, similar in design to his previous damaged set but now completely painted jet black; giving Garrus an aura that was frighteningly awesome. He still wore his traditional marksman visor over his left eye.

"There's something I have to do first. We're heading to the Migrant Fleet," Shepard announced.

"Sounds like a plan," Garrus noted. He was savvy enough to figure out precisely why it was that they were headed to the Migrant Fleet. It was one of the reasons he respected Shepard as much as he did. He'd always regretted not directly telling the families of his slain mercenary team on Omega about the deaths of their loved ones. He wasn't sure he had the courage to do so.

"Interesting. I've never seen the fleet," Olivia added. The Illusive Man had already told her that she was going to be accompanying Shepard during this mission. She would never say it aloud, but she was actually quite excited about the prospect of joining Shepard on his mission; after all, he was beginning to gain a reputation that would make him a legend and with him she could finally make a difference in the damn galaxy.

She was admittedly frightened over the idea as well, however, as many of Shepard's former subordinates had laid down their lives in order to make the difference she so ardently sought and she wasn't entirely certain she was ready to make that sort of sacrifice yet…


	5. Reunion

CHAPTER FIVE: REUNION

The Normandy came rocketing into the Talos system after it's journey through the connecting mass relay. It drifted with ease, it's stealth systems activated. The Talos system was on the edge of the known galaxy and very close to the Perseus Veil.

Despite what Legion had told Shepard about the geth, he still wouldn't let his guard down. There had been plenty of geth that tried to take his life even after Legion had joined the team. Not to mention those loyal to the Reapers could still be lurking about, despite the destruction of one of their home stations.

"Commander, the Migrant Fleet has granted permission to dock with the Rayya, but they want any shore party to stand-by at the airlock," Joker informed the Commander, who stood resolutely behind him in the cockpit. "Doesn't sound like their too happy about us dropping in unannounced."

"All right, Joker, take us in," Shepard replied. His brown eyes peered out of the reinforced canopy of the cockpit.

The flotilla was massive in size and said to be the largest known fleet in the galaxy. It's numbers were vast and diverse with ships of all types and sizes. Everything from transport ships, freight haulers and cruise-liners, to the military grade vessels like frigates and cruisers held formation in a sweeping array across the system.

Most important to the quarian's was their Liveships. Hulking vessels capable of housing hydroponics that enabled the quarians to grow crops to feed millions that lived within the fleet. They were marvels to behold, massive in size; they were the heart of the flotilla and were protected vigilantly by their own individual battle groups which surrounded them like protective mother's might shield their young. The loss of even one Liveship would be devastating to the Migrant Fleet.

The airlock sealed tightly and once it had Garrus, Olivia, and Shepard were all sprayed with a disinfecting foam. Despite the fact that they all wore sealed EVA suit's the quarians were still extremely careful about letting outsiders into their ships for fear of outside contaminates. So they took every precaution.

"Awfully careful, aren't they?" Olivia muttered, as the foam was sprayed off of her EVA suit.

"The quarians can get deathly ill from the slightest contact with the outside world," Shepard explained, although it was unnecessary. Just about everyone was familiar with why the quarians were forced to live in their suits.

"Doesn't seem like a pleasant way to live," Olivia commented.

Just as the last of the foam was jet-washed away the sealed hatch on the opposite end of the airlock slid open with a hiss and the trio stepped out to be greeted by a group of armed Migrant Fleet Marines.

"Is this common?" Olivia asked. She felt slightly nervous, her fingers twitching to reach for her weapon even though her mind told her it was a bad idea.

"Yes," Shepard said.

"Greetings to you once again, _Captain_ Shepard," Captain Kar'Danna vas Rayya stepped forward. Shepard had met Kar'Danna before; he was the commanding officer of the ship, which was also Tali'Zorah's birth ship and the very same one where her trial had taken place. "It is good to see you, however, I must protest; you have not informed us beforehand of your visit and so we find this to be peculiar. Additionally you don not have Tali in attendance and therefore I must restrict your access."

"That's actually why we're here," Shepard began, his voice mechanical through the voice-deucer on his mask.

"Oh? You bring news of some sort?" Kar'Danna asked with a sense of foreboding.

"Yes, unfortunately I am here to inform the fleet… and Admiral Shala'Raan that Tali'Zorah vas Neema has been killed while under _my_ command," Shepard admitted ruefully. Indeed, under his command.

"Well… that… that is regrettable news. Admiral Shala'Raan will certainly wish to hear it. Just a moment please, Captain," Kar'Danna excused himself for a moment and left the trio waiting near the airlock. Meanwhile the Marines began chattering amongst one another regarding this alarming news.

"Ahem, uh, excuse me, sir," one of the Marines shyly approached Shepard. "Uhm, how did she die?"

"She was killed during a highly dangerous mission beyond the Omega-4 relay. Without her I couldn't have stopped the greatest threat this galaxy has ever faced," he attempted to praise her, to say anything to make them realize what a catastrophic loss Tali was. But no words seemed to properly convey her worth, certainly not to Shepard.

"With respect, sir, we always believed she was the best of us… I served with her during several research expeditions and she spoke very highly of you. Despite the trial, despite everything we always knew she was of greater stuff," the Marine said through his enviro-suit.

"She was and I appreciate you telling me that," Shepard thanked the Marine who returned to his squad mates, still in his state of disbelief that Tali'Zorah vas Neema could possibly be dead.

"Captain Shepard, this way please," Kar'Danna announced as he materialized nearby once more.

He led the two humans and single turian through the many halls of the Rayya. Shepard kept his head and eyes directly to the front; he was here for a purpose and he was steeling himself to that end.

Olivia, however, was wide-eyed and amazed. In retrospect it was just a starship, no different than any other she had ever been inside, but the difference for her was the context. Very few outside species ever saw the inside of a quarian ship, certainly not like this. Already her endeavor with Shepard seemed to be proving worthy as she was experiencing sights rarely seen by others.

The quarians were careful, despite their relative friendship with Shepard, to them he still worked for Cerberus and several Marines were always in close attendance.

Eventually Kar'Danna led the group to a small meeting room and after a few moments Admiral Shala'Raan entered.

"It is good to see you, Commander," she greeted. "Captain Kar'Danna tells me you have news of your mission and of Tali'Zorah, I am anxious to hear it."

"The mission-- it was a success. Thanks in large part to Tali's efforts," Shepard explained with hesitation.

"That is good to hear, I am certain she would've made her father proud. He always believed she was destined for great things. I should like to see her so that I might congratulate her for her efforts myself," the Admiral responded. She took a quick glance at Shepard's companions and thought for a moment. How foolish of her, if Tali were well she would surely be with the Commander now; how could she miss that? Her heart beat rapidly increased and her anxiety was palpable.

"Tali is… she's gone, Admiral," Shepard expressed with immense dismay. His emotion was not properly carried through his suit's voice-deucer.

There was silence and then the trio could hear Shala'Raan's breathing intensify in volume and concentration. Her hand reached up, her three fingers clutching at her chest. She stammered backward and Shepard hastily moved to help her. She stabilized herself, using him as a sort of crutch, then leaned heavily on the table beside her, dismissing Shepard's help.

"This is… terrible, terrible news," she began. "I don't really know what to say to you right now, Commander. Tali was like a daughter to me. When her father passed I felt that she might very well have been the last person I cared for."

"I can't express to you how terrible I feel about this, or how sorry I am," Shepard tried to say with some difficulty.

"Yes, I- I imagine it is a very trying time for you as well," she sobbed for a moment then collected herself and attempted to stand fully under her own power once more. "Thank you, Commander Shepard, for delivering this news in person. You meant a great deal to her, you should know… and she meant a great deal to this fleet, despite outward appearances. I shall make sure she is properly remembered. She is no less than a hero among her people…"

With the Admiral's final words she thanked Shepard once again and then excused herself, departing the room just as she had entered.

"Captain Shepard, please, it's time for your people to leave," Kar'Danna reported.

Shepard lingered for a moment. "All right," he complied at last.

As the group headed back down the halls which had brought them to their meeting point, flanked by Marine guards, Shepard could hear the loud abrasive sound of a familiar person. That person was shouting at someone, anger flared in their voice.

"This is complete bullshit! I've risked my neck every damn day for years, buried more of my Marines than I can count on half a dozen worlds-- all for the sake of the fleet! And now I ask for one team, just one damn team for a single mission and you deny me!?" the voice shouted.

"Restrain yourself, remember your military discipline; you are a Marine or have you forgotten? You are subordinate to the members of this board and as it stands now your request cannot be granted. The likelihood of your sister still being alive is very low and we cannot risk _another _ship and more lives on such a low percentage of success. We're sorry," a regal, commanding voice responded to the flaring attacks of the former's speech.

"You're sorry? That's all you have to say, huh?" the voice demanded. "Well, to hell with it and to hell with you; I'll get her back myself."

Suddenly, from a conference room just ahead of Shepard and his retinue a well-armored figure burst forth. It was a quarian, however that quarian was dressed in what appeared to be heavy armor augmenting his enviro-suit.

"Shepard?" the male quarian suddenly asked, surprised by the sight of Shepard and his companions.

"Kal'Reegar," Shepard greeted with smile. He offered a handshake which Reegar genially shook.

Kal'Reegar was a no-nonsense Migrant Fleet Marine squad leader that had led a protection detail responsible for defending Tali'Zorah during her mission to Haestrom. Aside from Tali, Reegar had been the sole survivor.

"What brings you to the fleet?" Reegar asked curiously.

"Unfortunate business," Shepard admitted, looking away from the quarian Marine.

"Tali…" Reegar said with reverence. His intuition was dead on.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," Shepard apologized. He hated this, hated having to apologize to Tali's people. If only he'd done a better job. Reegar must've hated him now, after all, the quarian Marine had managed to keep her alive during her mission on Haestrom.

"There's no need to apologize," Reegar began, sensing Shepard's remorse. He placed a hand on the human's armored shoulder. "I'm sure you did everything you could."

They were quiet for a few moments, the Marines surrounding them looked away as well-- an unannounced moment of silence on behalf of Tali seemed to prevail amongst the small group in the middle of the corridor.

"What was that argument I heard just now?" Shepard asked after some time.

"That? Oh, it was the Admiralty board rejecting my request for a rescue team," Reegar seethed.

"Rescue team? For what?"

"My sister was part of a small team of Marines and scientists that were performing recon operations near the Perseus Veil. They were compromised and the geth attacked their ship-- we lost all contact. I want to take a small team and a ship to go search, but the board says it's unlikely there are any survivors and they won't risk the resources. Damn bastards, after all I've done for them," Reegar fumed. He paced back and forth angrily. Shepard didn't need to see his facial expressions, it was evident in his tone and the way he carried himself.

"I didn't know you had a sister, Reegar," Shepard continued.

"Yeah… Iriana'Reegar vas Tesleya; she's pretty young still."

"What was she doing with the recon mission?" Shepard asked with a raised brow.

"That's just it, I don't know. She's too young to be any help to the research team and has practically no military training, aside from a few things I taught her. Hell, she was supposed to depart for her pilgrimage soon, but she insisted on going on the mission and they let her."

"I'm surprised you let her go," Shepard stated.

"I wouldn't have-- if I had been here, but I was away raiding some geth outpost with my team. I came back and heard the news that she was gone and then a few days later we got the com-traffic about the geth attacking their ship. I've got to find her, Commander, or at least find out what happened to her ship," Reegar insisted. Obviously he had already made up his mind about the situation and was planning to make due on his promise to the Admiralty board.

"Maybe we can help," Shepard offered. "I've got a ship and a team."

"I can't ask you to do that, Commander. This is my affair and I can take care of it," Reegar politely declined.

"Nonsense, you were squad mates with Tali and you kept her alive on Haestrom; for that I owe you," Shepard persisted.

Kal'Reegar stood quietly for a few moments. He looked away, then at the other Marines and then back at Shepard. "All right, Commander… I'll owe you big for this."

"Don't worry about it, Reegar," Shepard assured him.

With the decision finalized Kal'Reegar accompanied Shepard, Garrus, and Olivia back to the airlock adjoining the Normandy. Captain Kar'Danna bid farewell to the group, as did the Marines of their security detail. The captain of the Rayya wished Reegar good luck in finding his sister, before the quarian Marine boarded the Normandy. Reegar thanked him for his concern then disappeared behind the sealing doors of the airlock. The Normandy's next stop was the outer rim, where they'd be scanning for signs of the quarian scout ship and any geth that may have attacked them.

Shepard knew it was a risky prospect, but he felt good about helping Kal'Reegar, he felt as if perhaps by helping to save the life of his sister he could somehow redeem himself for losing Tali. It was silly, he admitted to himself, but doing nothing didn't feel right and so he told Joker to set a course and the Normandy was soon underway.


	6. Rescue

CHAPTER SIX: RESCUE

"Tantalus drive core is operating at 100%, heat-sinks are active, all other systems are optimal, the board is green and we are running silent, Commander," Joker announced just as Commander Shepard arrived in the cockpit.

"Good, EDI, begin a scan of the system. This is the last known location of the quarian's scout ship the Dryiad," Shepard ordered.

"Initial scans indicate a geth flotilla in orbit around a small moon near Anoch," EDI reported after several moments.

"Have a look, Commander," Joker offered, pointing out of the cockpit's canopy.

Shepard glared out of the reinforced acrylic Plexiglas at the distant planet. It was a sizeable planet with a trio of moons in orbit around it. Anoch was a gas giant with large helium-3 deposits, but virtually unexploited thanks to it's proximity to the Perseus Veil and geth space.

Shepard was still in awe at the appearance of the celestial body. It was beautiful in a way most people didn't appreciate anymore; a large orb of swirling orange, brown, red and copper colors, enormous in size like all gas giants. The tiny moons orbiting it seemed to pale in comparison, but after the Normandy drifted closer the geth flotilla came into focus.

"There has to be at least a dozen ships," Joker broke Shepard's line of thought as he gazed at the sizeable geth task force.

"My scans indicate the geth have positioned themselves at the L5 Lagrange point over the moon Euphor. There is a thin atmosphere consisting of sulfur dioxide, trace amounts of sulfur monoxide, sodium chloride, atomic sulfur and oxygen; EVA suits will be required," EDI reported.

Shepard thought for a moment, his armored hand rubbing his chin. "If we launch the shuttle from the far side of the moon what are the chances the geth detect us?" he asked, waiting for either Joker or EDI to answer the question.

"It should work," Joker started. "The Kodiak is equipped with sophisticated electronic jamming and active masking. It's designed to drop troops undetected, but we can't be sure the geth don't have anything to identify it."

"Additionally, when the cargo bay doors have been opened there is a likely possibility that a heat spike will occur on geth sensors," EDI added.

"Would a simple spike be enough to make them curious to investigate?" Shepard questioned, his eyes still fixed upon the miniature armada in the distance.

"Unknown," was EDI's mechanical response.

"You also have to consider recovery, Commander," Joker interjected.

"Recovery?" Shepard was curious.

"Yeah, when you are coming back the Kodiak requires the Normandy to link up with it just as it exits the atmosphere. The Normandy has to dip into the moon's ionosphere, which causes heat. It could compromise us if the geth catch it," Joker exclaimed.

"We'll just have to be fast then," Shepard said resolutely.

"Surface scans of the moon have revealed major heat signatures from what appears to be a geth drop ship. Additionally there are indications of a wrecked ship near the drop ship's landing site, but there is no distress beacon currently active," EDI proclaimed.

"Take us to the far side of Euphor, Joker, we're dropping in," Shepard declared. He turned and swiftly exited the bridge, heading back past the ops-stations and the galaxy map positioned in the Combat Information Center. He stepped into the elevator which quickly transported him down to the hangar deck.

Kal'Reegar, Garrus, and Olivia all stood clad in their respective armor types, their protective masks on for those who needed them and their weapons stowed and ready for the fight that awaited them.

"Time to saddle up people," Shepard announced, putting his own helmet on and locking down the seals.

The small fire team climbed the ladder up into the Kodiak, two pilots from Cerberus already sat within it's cockpit. The door hydraulically closed behind them; then there was a hiss as the cabin pressurized.

The crew within the hangar pulled the ladder clear of the Kodiak which was suspended over the deck by a large docking cradle that resembled a claw. This position made it easier for maintenance personnel to perform their jobs.

The personnel quickly exited the hangar and once they had the pilots communicated that information to an ops-station in the CIC. The hangar door was opened amongst a cavalcade of swirling warning lights and an audible beeping noise the vast empty expanse of space was revealed.

The mechanical claw raised it's steely fingers and the Kodiak dropped immediately, but only a foot or so before it's hulking element zero core activated and countered the vessel's mass. It levitated there momentarily before it's directional thrusters propelled it out of the Normandy and into the vacuum; the Frigate's bay door quickly closed behind it.

Kal'Reegar was silent, his eyes seemed to be transfixed on the tiny moon Euphor. He was likely steeling himself for what was ahead, perhaps expecting the worst when it came to the condition of his sister.

"We're dropping in about two klicks west of the crash site, from there we're humping it," Shepard briefed his small band of troops. "Maintain decent dispersion and stay alert, watch the ridgeline since we'll be hoofing it through a narrow draw; no telling if the geth have sent security patrols out into the surrounding area, although that seems unlikely."

The ride through the atmosphere was slightly rough, causing the Kodiak to jumble and shake momentarily, but it was minor considering the moon's thin atmosphere. The UT-47 broke through it quickly and the pilots immediately went about dropping their altitude.

They'd brought the Kodiak down to about 300 feet off the deck and now mapped the topography in order to present as small a chance of being compromised as possible. The flight was nearly an hour before they reached their drop-off point, but it seemed far longer as each member of the team as they thought about what lie ahead.

For Olivia, it was a particularly trying time as her mind raced about what might happen. The geth were on the planet and in force; she was now having second thoughts about joining Shepard's little team. She'd never faced off against anyone or anything in real combat before, least of all a geth. Her nerves were racked, but she did her best to clear her mind as the Kodiak began to rumble down onto it's landing zone.

"All right, let's move," Shepard shouted over the sound of the roaring element zero core. The door of the transport craft rose up and the team leapt from interior of the 'combat cockroach', moving quickly and in a five meter spread, careful not to bunch up.

The moon was barren, the ground and dust that covered it was a sullen brown and no vegetation was seen- as expected on this type of celestial body. Before them a long, thin, rift formed a draw that would take them toward the crash site. It was flanked on either side by large, rocky hillsides, too steep to make movement practical.

Shepard didn't like using the draw to get to the crash. His team was exposed, with little cover if they were attacked and practically no way to safely egress should an ambush be sprung.

If the geth did attack they would have an advantage by firing down into the rift; whereas Shepard and his team would be forced to fire up at a barely seen enemy who had cover to utilize. But there was little other choice as the mountain range surrounding the draw was large and nearly impassable. They could've landed elsewhere and made an approach, but the other directions provided little in the way of cover. At least from this direction if they made it through the draw undetected they would have a decent position to begin their attack on the geth drop ship.

They moved swiftly, weapons held up and at the ready. Despite Shepard's years of experience and training it was still a tiresome exercise to keep his hefty Revenant up and in his shoulder. But in precarious situations it was best to be as prepared as possible and they were all trained to keep their weapons up and in their shoulders if there was a prospect of imminent contact.

Fortunately, the geth had not sent out any security patrols and their invasive movements toward the crash site and the geth drop ship went unnoticed.

The draw broke free of the mountain range, spilling out onto flat terrain with a large hill blocking the direct front. This created a y shape of sorts, as the draw split into two directions at it's terminating point in order to round the rocky hill before it.

Shepard and his team deftly clamored up the side of the outcropping, careful not to expose themselves over the military crest. Their silhouettes would be easily recognizable if they ventured over the ridgeline. Instead, they laid down and crept up on their bellies.

Shepard positioned himself as comfortably as he could upon the rocky surface of the hill and then sighted in on the view below with the advanced combat optical gunsight on his weapon.

The geth drop ship lay approximately 100 meters away from the crashed ship, which Kal'Reegar confirmed to be the Dryiad. The terrain was flat with little in the way of cover.

Geth patrolled the immediate vicinity and there was a plethora of wreckage as well as containers that the geth were salvaging from the crash. That was about all Shepard could expect for cover.

From their current location it was about a thirty meter sprint over open terrain before his team could make it to the crashed quarian ship and take cover utilizing the debris. At least a dozen geth would make that a difficult prospect.

"I don't see any survivors," Garrus observed. He was staring through the scope of his Mantis sniper rifle. Despite it's low rate of fire he preferred it to the Viper because of it's greater stopping power.

"They could be inside the ship," Reegar pointed out, still hopeful that his sister was alive. The ship was mostly intact with only a few smoldering fires occurring on it's outer bulkhead. It seemed to have a massive crack that ran down the dorsal portion of it's exterior and one of the sub-light engines had broken away and lay in ruins a few hundred meters away.

"There's probably more geth in there as well, looks like they're salvaging what they can," Shepard noted.

"The toughest part will be making it across the open ground there without any defilade. We could come under heavy fire if the geth see us," Reegar remarked, echoing Shepard's thoughts.

"All right, here's the plan," Shepard began. "Garrus, you're going to stay here and provide over watch for us while we make our move across the open ground. If the geth spot us I want you to pour it on them to keep them suppressed until we make it to cover."

"Guardian angel duty, eh? No problem, Shepard, I'll keep their heads down," Garrus replied.

"Olivia, Reegar and I will move it double-time to the debris and engage the geth- at that point you start shooting Garrus, if they haven't noticed us yet. We'll take care of the geth troopers outside the Dryiad, move inside and mop up the rest then find any survivors and get the hell out of here as fast as possible," Shepard continued.

"Wait, we're going to run across an open field and just attack a group of heavily armed geth even though we are vastly outnumbered?" Olivia asked, astonished.

"That's the general idea," Shepard replied.

"What's the problem, lady, losing your nerve?" Reegar teased.

"No- no, I just… well I've never done anything like this before," she admitted. "I'm an intelligence officer not a commando."

"That changes today," Shepard told her. "Remember your training, listen to my commands, watch our backs and stay alert and you'll be fine."

"Shepard and I have faced odds like this a thousand times and always came out on top. Besides, you've got me providing over watch- you're in good hands," Garrus added.

"Can't say I like the idea of charging headlong into a fight with two aliens I barely know," Olivia stated.

"Deal with it, Olivia- we're moving out," Shepard ordered.

Shepard and the rest of his team, minus Garrus, slid down the rocky face of the hillside and prepared themselves to make their dash across the open ground as they quietly slinked around the side of the small outcropping.

"Shepard, I'm ready and in position," Garrus told the Commander over their com-link. He had his Mantis rifle's bipods extended and planted in the best piece of flat ground he could find on the hillside. He peered through his optics, selecting which geth targets he thought would be the biggest initial threat and thus the first to be destroyed by his precision fire.

Shepard acknowledged his turian comrade and his team readied themselves at the base of the small mountain.

Olivia was sweating profusely, her heart raced and she was short of breath. Shepard could hear that she was nearly hyperventilating.

"Olivia," he said. She did not respond.

"Olivia!" he snapped, louder now. Her wide eyes looked over at the Commander. "Get your head together- we're doing this."

She nodded repeatedly and swallowed with some difficulty. She fumbled slightly with her Carnifax hand cannon and then readied herself for the upcoming assault. _God I hope I survive this_. She thought nervously.

"Once we start there's no stopping until you reach the cover on the far side of the plain. Keep your heads down- run as quickly as possible and maintain a ten meter spread," Shepard ordered. He didn't want a lucky burst from a geth pulse rifle to get all three of them as they crossed the open ground with their asses in the wind. "Ready?"

His teammates nodded their heads. Kal'Reegar was as ready as he ever could be; this sort of exercise was common place for him and he was eager to crack some geth skulls, or whatever it was they had for heads.

Olivia meanwhile was struggling to maintain her composure.

"Go!"

Shepard was the first to cross the open. He sprint forward, his arms swinging powerfully to propel him forward as fast as possible

Ten seconds later and Kal'Reegar followed suit. His Vindicator assault rifle was clutched tightly in his three-fingered hands and his rocket launcher bounced against his armor-clad back, but he moved swiftly, nearly as fast as Shepard.

Olivia took a deep breathe and stepped out from behind cover. _You can do this_. She re-assured herself. She took a step forward and then began to run.

Just as she did, however, a pair of geth troopers spotted the trio making their move across the small plain dividing the exit of the draw and the crash site. They immediately opened fire, they're blue-gray energy pulses rocketed past Shepard and Reegar, impacting the ground and sending gouts of sand and rock several feet into the air.

Olivia saw the gunfire, halted in place, then turned and sped back to the rocky outcropping. Pulse rifle rounds careened into where she had been standing just seconds later.

A booming audible crack was heard from the mountain top and a geth trooper's shield glimmered and then dissipated. Another crack and the geth soldier staggered backward, his combat chassis eviscerated by a round from Garrus' sniper rifle. One more loud gunshot and the single-eyed head of the geth was blown clear off the synthetic's shoulders. It shook violently, then collapsed in a heap.

It's fellow geth continued to shoot at the exposed Commander Shepard and Kal'Reegar and the sound of the gunfire attracted it's colleagues.

The two sprinting commandos now found themselves under a hail of gunfire. Rounds slammed into the ground all around them, kicking up a storm of dust and debris and showering them with the stuff. Occasionally a round would impact them as they ran, but their shields held up well under the onslaught.

Garrus continued to fire with deadly accuracy. Each miniscule round was mass accelerated through the lengthy barrel of his rifle, exiting with a shattering echo and traveling beyond the speed of sound before finding it's mark. One shot from the heavy rifle was usually enough to bring down the shields, then another pair to finish the geth off.

Under heavy fire, Shepard and Reegar finally reached viable cover behind debris that was strewn about. Shepard and the quarian Marine immediately began firing into the formation of geth troopers that had harried their trip across the open terrain.

Shepard quickly noticed Olivia was not with them. "Where is Knightely?" he demanded to know, shouting over the sound of Reegar's gunfire.

"Don't know, thought she was right behind me!" Reegar shouted back, firing off another five round burst that adequately shredded the exoskeleton of a geth soldier attempting to flank the duo.

Shepard looked back at the plain they had just crossed. It was pockmarked with gunshots, but there was no sign of Olivia. He focused back to their start point and saw her there, cowering meekly behind a formation of rocks.

"Looks like it's just the two of us," he stated disappointingly. He popped out from behind cover, his weapon firmly in the pocket of his shoulder and his eyes over his sights. With a quick breath he squeezed the trigger and unleashed a deadly hail of accelerated rounds, each one packing an incendiary punch.

The rounds slammed into a geth fighter, it's shield flickered, sustaining the damage for just a few moments then failed. As soon as it did the projectiles from Shepard's Revenant tore into the geth. Large chunks of its chassis were ripped free, exploding rearward with a milky white substance following in trace. Impact sites from the rounds burst into flames that reached out and licked nearby geth, at times setting them ablaze as well.

The two well-trained professionals began a methodical fire and maneuver scheme. Shepard would fire his heavy Revenant machine gun and the geth would take cover, enabling Kal'Reegar to move up to a better position at which point Reegar would then provide the covering fire and Shepard would advance under the protective umbrella provided by Reegar's lethal fire and Garrus' precise marksmanship.

They had destroyed nearly all of the geth outside of the crashed quarian starship and were advancing on the remaining few troopers who now fell back towards the geth drop ship with some semblance of order.

Shepard and Reegar found themselves giving chase, attempting to devastate the entire geth attack force. In a few short minutes (that seemed more like ages to the combatants) they had successfully wiped out the geth guard force, but were suddenly caught amidst a heavy barrage of gunfire as geth reinforcements poured out of the Dryiad.

"Damn," Shepard cursed as he dove to the deck and clawed at the ground to get as flat as possible behind a measly piece of cover. Likewise Reegar was forced to huddle up and get as small as possible behind an equally poor piece of wreckage.

Suddenly, one of the geth rose high into the air, an eerie purple aura surrounding its figure. Then with little warning it slammed into the ground before its geth comrades with what had to be 1,000 Newtons of force.

Another geth's head was dissolved by several accurate shots from a semi-automatic weapon. Shepard recognized the sound of the weapon, it was a Carnifax hand cannon.

The geth immediately turned to engage the newly arrived Cerberus Operative who was forced to roll behind cover. She was amazed by her own quick actions, but quickly frightened by the chaotic response of heavy fire now slamming into her position as every geth that had exited the Dryiad focused on this new threat.

This enabled Shepard to move to a better position where he released a stream of accurate machine gun fire into the flank of the attacking geth. Shields sputtered and then died out, exposing the geth trooper to the destructive power of the Revenant and its incendiary ammunition.

Garrus continued to provide devastating fire from his guardian angel position, utterly destroying another duo of geth with his armor-piercing rounds. He left gaping holes in the chassis' of each geth he fired upon. They twitched as they malfunctioned but continued on in a vain attempt to 'live', only to be finished by a follow up shot from the deadly sniper.

Meanwhile, Reegar had prepared his heavy weapon and quickly released two wire-guided rockets into a trio of geth attempting to take cover from Shepard's unrelenting gunfire. The rockets crashed into their covered position and annihilated the cowering geth. Parts and pieces of the synthetics were blown everywhere as a small fireball and smoke erupted to cloud visibility momentarily. A small, smoldering crater remained where the three geth had once been.

Before long all of the geth reinforcements now lay in ruins. A single geth weakly crawled away towards the drop ship. Its legs had been blown off and it dragged itself almost with a sense of desperation. It left a white trail of fluid in it's wake and twitched intermittenly.

Reegar approached it, shouldered his assault rifle and drew his pistol. He took aim of the flash-light headed geth and fired three shots. The first two rounds tore up the armored plating on the head of the geth, it twitched more fiercely now until the third and final round pierced its exoskeleton and the light upon its face diminished. It went limp and silence fell over the scene.

"Now we get inside and mop up the rest of the bastards," Reegar announced, holstering his sidearm and redrawing his assault rifle.

Olivia came and joined Shepard and Reegar as they stood over the remains of the geth trooper the quarian had just shot.

"Heads up, Shepard, you've got more trouble," Garrus broke in over the com-link.

The trio whirled around and saw from the geth drop ship at least another two dozen geth troopers pour out, but more menacing than that was the hulking visage of a geth Prime.

The Prime was the largest geth infantry unit and it towered over its fellow geth troopers. It was equipped with heavy weapons, armor and shields- making it terrifyingly deadly on the battlefield and incredibly resilient under nearly all types of gunfire.

Shepard and his small band began stepping back as if to prepare for this new and absurd rush of enemies, but before they could take up positions and open fire a voice was heard, a voice that frantically called out above the din of the approaching geth.

"Stop, please, you must stop!" the voice shouted.

Shepard and the others turned to see a quarian girl exit the damaged Dryiad and run to their position.

"Iriana!" Reegar cried, alarmed. "You're okay!"

"Yes, I am, but you must stop this," she begged as her brother embraced her shortly.

"What are you talking about we're here to rescue you," Reegar replied confusedly.

"No. I don't need to be rescued," she responded through her environmental suit.

Shepard and Olivia drew their weapons up to their shoulders and sighted in as the geth reinforcements arrived and fanned out in a half circle around them. The geth aimed in, prepared to fire, but did not. The geth Prime simply held it's position, towering over everyone with its imposing force.

"What do you mean you don't need to be rescued? What the hell is going on Iriana?" Reegar demanded angrily.

"Kal… the geth mistakenly fired upon us- they didn't realize we were just a scout ship," Iriana began.

"That's bullshit!" Reegar interrupted.

"No Kal, they want to open up relations with the quarians; they want this fighting to end. After we crashed… everyone was dead, except me. The geth arrived and at first I was terrified, but one of them spoke to me in our language and explained they didn't want to harm me. They said I could return with them to Rannoch and study them and open up diplomatic relations…" she told her brother, almost disbelievingly. "Imagine, I'd be the first quarian to return to our home world."

"No, I don't believe this- it's some kind of trick," Reegar refused. He drew his weapon and turned it on the geth Prime, who hardly reacted.

"Reegar, not all of the geth are the same," Shepard interjected.

"What?" Reegar was confused.

"One of them worked with us- he explained that the geth who attacked Eden Prime and the Citadel were an offshoot of their civilization, a very small fraction of them they referred to as heretics," Shepard told him.

"I don't care, it wasn't any damn geth heretic that rebelled against our people and expelled us from Rannoch," Reegar seethed.

"Brother, we tried to use them as slaves and when they became self-aware we tried to destroy them. It was wrong, we have to learn from our mistakes, we have to stop this endless cycle of bloodshed or our people will never rest- never find peace," Iriana spoke up, stepping between Reegar's weapon and the geth Prime.

Reegar lowered his rifle. "This is… this is too much Iriana. What about your pilgrimage?" he questioned weakly.

"_This_ is my pilgrimage, brother. What greater purpose can I serve than to try and heal old wounds between the geth and our people, to finally bring peace?" she responded resolutely. "I am going with them, brother."

Reegar looked away, shaking his head. He walked away from his sister and his team, towards the Dryiad. His eyes traced over the damage, studying every bit of it and thinking about the dead crew. How many wrecks had he seen just like this? How many geth had killed his friends and how many geth had he killed himself? It was a cycle, a never-ending one based on a lack of understanding, fear, and the need for retribution.

He returned to his sister. "Do what you have to do, Iriana," he exclaimed grudgingly.

"You will see, brother. I will heal these old wounds and bring our people together." Her hand reached up and rested upon Reegar's helmet. "Keelah se'lai."

She turned and walked away without another word, the geth troopers gathered around her and escorted her back toward the drop ship. The geth Prime lingered for a moment before turning and following in their foot steps.

"Keelah se'lai," Reegar muttered as he watched them board the ship. Its engines roared to life and it rumbled off the deck, kicking up a maelstrom of dust and rocks, then it turned and rocketed off to exit the atmosphere.

Shepard glanced at Reegar. He was quiet, didn't move at all except to watch the drop ship leave.

"Come pick us up," he radioed to the pilots of the Kodiak. Garrus would rejoin them soon, as he was now heading over to their position, having left his since the threat was now gone…


	7. Interim

CHAPTER SEVEN: INTERIM

Reegar paced back and forth before Garrus and Shepard within the briefing room aboard the Normandy. Shepard had never seen him display this much emotion outwardly- he seemed almost the exact opposite of the disciplined and courageous Marine he'd met on Haestrom.

"Is everything all right?" Garrus asked suddenly.

Kal'Reegar stopped in place, his head hung low as he thought for a few moments. "I can't stand the idea of my sister with those geth."

"She'll be fine, Reegar," Shepard observed, crossing his arms.

"How can you be so sure, Commander?" Reegar asked, almost demandingly.

"Like I said, there was one on this ship- from what he told us the main population of geth don't want continuing hostilities with the quarians. Your sister may in fact be bridging a gap between your people and the geth," Shepard explained. "You should be proud of her."

"We'll see. I don't trust the geth; how can you trust something that has no heart… no soul," Reegar muttered.

"Do you need us to take you back to the flotilla?" Shepard asked, changing the subject.

Reegar thought for a few moments. "No. No, I'm done with that for now. No sense in going back now."

"Self-imposed exile?" Garrus questioned.

"Why not? After everything I did for the fleet… they were ready to just abandon my sister, abandon every soul aboard the Dryiad because they thought survivors were unlikely? If I go back it would only be a matter of time before it was my ship lost on some distant planet or in some far off system hoping for help- but being left to die instead," Reegar said ruefully. "Besides, I owe you Shepard. So if you need a hand around here then I'm more than willing to be a part of your crew."

"Glad to have you aboard, Reegar," Shepard replied almost immediately- he certainly meant that as well. Reegar would be an excellent addition to Shepard's team.

The two shook hands and then Reegar spoke. "Well, if you don't mind I'll excuse myself, gentleman. Maybe I'll settle into the armory and have a look at the weapons stock."

Shepard nodded and Reegar exited the briefing room.

"Nice addition to the team," Garrus commented.

"Definitely. But we can't stop there, we need more people," Shepard responded.

"Might I suggest Omega?"

"You think we can find someone useful there?" Shepard asked with a raised brow.

"Not sure; I know it's a haven for the scum of the galaxy but there are good people there too and some of them are braver than you'd expect," Garrus detailed, thinking about the mercenary team he'd recruited beforehand.

"Well, we don't have much else to go on for now," Shepard said. "Joker, set a course for Omega."

"Aye, aye, Commander," the mordant pilot assented over the intercom.

Garrus nodded approval and then left the briefing room as well, likely headed down to the forward batteries section of the ship- a place he seemed to enjoy the most.

With nothing else to do until reaching Omega, Shepard decided to head down to the crew quarters and check in on Olivia. It had been her first real action and it would be prudent of the Commander to see how she was faring mentally and emotionally. He knew all too well the stresses that accompanied combat; the dangers of which could be particularly devastating to those that are new or unaccustomed to it.

"How are you doing Shepard?" Olivia's steady voice questioned as the Commander entered her quarters. She now occupied the room that Miranda had once been assigned.

"I'm fine," he began before stepping in front of her desk. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

She had been typing away on her desktop computer, likely sending an updated after action report to the Illusive Man. "Me? I'm perfectly fine," she claimed with firmness.

"Are you sure?" he pressed. "Things started a little rough down there."

She paused for a moment, considering her words. She exhaled deeply, rubbed her eyes and then placed her elbows on her desk before clasping them together below her chin. "I should apologize for that, Commander. I don't really have a good excuse- I've just never been shot at before," she exclaimed openly. "And I never imagined it would be so frightening."

Commander Shepard eased himself into the chair positioned before the Cerberus officer's desk. "Being shot at is probably one of the scariest things out there," he admitted.

"Surely it doesn't bother you anymore- you're quite the veteran," she replied with a grin.

"I'm not invincible," he began, looking down at his calloused hands. He thought about that for a moment; there wasn't a more honest statement. After all, he'd died once already. "Gunfire is something you never get used to. It's always terrifying."

"So how do you perform so well? If you're frightened I can't see how you could have possibly accomplished all that you have," Olivia asked interestedly, her thin brow piqued from curiosity.

"The mission comes before anything else," Shepard said with surprising confidence. It seemed he was beginning to regain some of his former self. "You push beyond the fear to accomplish what you set out to do. The same thing you did down there," Shepard referred to Olivia's sudden appearance during the fight on Euphor.

"What I did?" she asked, puzzled.

"What made you change your mind? If you were so frightened why did you start fighting?" Shepard questioned her.

"I thought… I thought you needed my help and I didn't want to be responsible for your deaths because of my failings…" she told him, almost ashamed. She looked away for a moment and brushed a stray strand of her light brown hair from her face.

"You dealt with your fear and you acted. It's no different for me, or anyone else for that matter," he reassured her. His hardened visage softened for a moment as if to express to her that he cared about her emotional stability.

"I suppose you might be right- still it left me unsure of whether or not this was the right decision for me," she said half-heartedly.

"What do you mean?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I've been an excellent intelligence officer for Cerberus. I've used my extensive list of contacts in the System Alliance military and the Citadel to gather information for the Illusive Man so that he could better plan and carry out missions for the organization. Because of my reliability, trustworthiness, and professionalism he selected me to be a part of your ongoing mission," she exclaimed in a soft tone.

"And to keep tabs on me," Shepard alleged half-joking, despite the fact that it was true.

"Now I'm not sure I was the best candidate. Operative Lawson set a high bar, it will be difficult to surpass her," Olivia finished, ignoring Shepard's minor jab.

"You shouldn't aim to surpass her. Just do your job and everything will work out fine," Shepard implored as he rose from the chair across from her desk. He wasn't particularly happy with Miranda being mentioned by Olivia and he certainly didn't think she could be surpassed or replaced… he didn't want her to be replaced.

"You sound so confident now," Olivia noticed aloud.

"I'm starting to get used to these desperate situations," Shepard affirmed.

"Right. Well, I better get back to work."

"Good, I should be going," Shepard bid his goodbye and exited the Cerberus' officer's quarters. She didn't seem too bad so far and just like Miranda there was probably more to her than just the emblem she represented. He remembered how much he trusted Miranda by the end of their mission. It had gone beyond professional camaraderie; grew into some thing far more. It was such a pity she was gone now- something along the lines of a tragedy, but he put her far from his mind, for the thought of her was enough to distract him from what lie ahead.

In the mess area of the Normandy groups of Cerberus crew members shuffled about, some clutching trays with food slopped upon them from the new mess Sergeant. They chattered away idly, but as Shepard passed an portentous silence fell over the lot of them. They attempted to watch him from the corner of their eyes, but Shepard detected the subterfuge. It was too hard not too notice when a room hushes to near silence when you pass. He wondered what they were thinking. Were they in awe of him, or were they thinking that he was the butcher responsible for the deaths of their predecessors? It was hard to tell now as the group finally realized their mistake and began to pick up with conversation once more.

The Combat Information Center was fully repaired and according to EDI it had even been updated; although with minor incremental system updates. He had made the decisions to leave EDI intrinsically linked into all of the Normandy's systems; it was a decision that Joker agreed with and one that the Illusive Man signed off on. Olivia had been somewhat hesitant accepting the idea of an AI having so much control over the ship's systems; at one point she had even stated the AI could vent the oxygen at any given moment and take the ship for itself. EDI had defended itself with surprising skill and Olivia had dropped the issue since.

Now a sea of new faces drifted from console to console performing system scans, running diagnostics, checking and re-checking mathematical equations regarding FTL routes and firing solutions for the ship's defenses. Shepard was impressed by their work ethic but inwardly thought it all a bit superfluous. With EDI as a trusted 'member' of the crew almost all functions of the ship could be controlled by her at any time. The logical moment would be during combat, because her reaction time was calculated at the thousandth of a second, compared to a human being- which even the best trained personnel could only hone themselves to a few seconds timing.

But Shepard wanted this, he knew his crew had to have a stake in the mission, had to feel like they were a part of this entire crusade in order to keep them ready and willing. As a result, he made it known that the AI would never take over the ship beyond its originally designed intent unless in the most dire circumstances. The crew seemed to respect his decision in that regard and doubled their efforts to prove to him that it was the right one.

On the subject of new faces- a new crew member stood before Yeoman Kelly Chambers' old station. A young female, with short, well-kempt black hair and eyes incensed with determination. She was attractive and perhaps roughly the same age as Kelly had been. Shepard shook his head; it appeared that the Illusive Man saw to it that each of the personnel assigned as his administrative assistant was an attractive young female. He wondered if there was something more to it or if he was just being paranoid.

The young girl turned and addressed him as he approached. "Commander, Yeoman First Class Jamie Daniels reporting," she announced with confidence.

"Let me guess, you're my administrative assistant," Shepard inferred.

"Yes, sir. But only officially. I am also a counselor for the rest of the crew to help deal with any operational stress they may encounter during our mission. I have…"

"A degree in psychology?" Shepard finished her sentence for her.

"Uh, yes, sir," She blushed slightly, somewhat embarrassed as if she was only stating the obvious for a person that acted as a counselor.

For Shepard it was déjà vu. "It's good to have you aboard, Miss Daniels," Shepard guaranteed her.

"Yeoman Daniels, sir," she responded automatically.

"Pardon?"

"My rank is Yeoman, sir. Apologies, I would just like to keep things as professional as possible," she exclaimed unapologetically.

"Okay," Shepard shifted his weight, crossed his arms and gave her a puzzled look. "Yeoman it is."

"Thank you, sir. Is there anything you need?" she questioned, as if to suggest he was keeping her from more important work.

"No. You've been more than helpful. I'll see you." Shepard left the Yeoman to her own devices and proceeded toward the cockpit of the SR-2 Normandy.

The cockpit of the Normandy had been fully repaired and put back to rights by the Cerberus technical staff who'd come aboard weeks ago. Shepard was impressed by their effort; he couldn't even tell the Normandy had been a part of any major engagements.

"What's up, Commander?" Lt. Moreau greeted the Commander as he reached the cockpit.

"How are things up here?" Shepard queried. He placed his arms in the small of his back and his gray irises traced the hard lines of every piece of gear in the sleek compartment.

"Everything is going well, Commander. Cerberus really did a bang up job with the Normandy- I've got to hand it to them," Joker commended. It was unusual for him to be so praiseworthy regarding other people's work, but the mission had left Joker emotionally and mentally sapped. Seeing the Normandy inching into port on its last legs was analogous to seeing a childhood pet limping home. As a result, the former Alliance pilot was relieved to see the work Cerberus had done and was even happier to see that EDI still functioned in the same capacity as before. Shepard had noticed that the pilot had grown affectionate towards the AI- which was a put off-putting considering how little he conversed with others. But in the end it wasn't the Shepard's business.

"Repairs to all systems damaged in the attack on the Collector Base have been completed and upgrades have been performed, Shepard. The fusion plant is processing power at a nominal rate, antiproton thrusters are showing an increased boost capacity of thirty percent, the Tantalus Drive Core is working with increased efficiency, and all passive and active scanners have an enhanced detection and targeting array as a result of a software update," EDI chimed in suddenly in her mechanical tone. Her simulated inflections of emotion seemed to attempt the sound of pride in her voice.

"Sounds excellent, EDI," Shepard indulged 'her'.

"I still haven't run a full diagnostic test on all of the Normandy's systems, but I think once we take her through her paces she'll outperform the same ship we took through the Omega-4 Relay," Joker insisted as he punched several commands into the holographic screen illuminated before him.

"Really? But that was only a couple of months ago," Shepard responded incredulously.

"Technology improves by leaps and bounds every day, Commander. The Illusive Man decided to outfit us with all the best software, hardware and tech he could get his hands on. We shouldn't need any upgrades this time around, Normandy is about as well equipped as a warship can possibly be," Joker continued. His ability to maintain a conversation while still carrying out his tasks as the Normandy's pilot were admirable. His usual sardonic sense of humor hid a well-trained, experienced and supremely talented man. "It's a good thing too. We can't leave all the tech-head stuff to you soldier-types, after all."

"There's still no bar," Shepard noted, a distant memory of a conversation he had had with Jacob before the mission beyond the Omega-4 Relay. He had joked that the next iteration of the Normandy would need a bar, or lounge.

"If you're that thirsty I've got some home-brewed stuff you might want to try," Joker shot back with a smirk.

"Sounds like contraband," Shepard accused in a joking manner.

"Contraband? Thought this was a civilian ship."

"You're right. Just don't drink any of the stuff when you're at the helm," Shepard chuckled, turning to exit the cockpit. "I'd hate for you to fly us into a star."

"See ya, Commander."

In the distant Phoenix Massing Nebula, within the small Typhon system, on a tiny frozen moon orbiting the hydrogen-helium gas giant Ponos a human mining consortium conducted semi-invasive mining procedures in order to ascertain whether or not the readings their probes had taken of the moon were correct. If they were, then it meant the moon was rich with mineral resources.

Earnest Tyson sat awkwardly in the aged vinyl seat of his Dozer, a beast-like machine with a massive hydraulic drill that was used to burrow into a planet's crust in order for mining efforts to exploit the crust's resources. The deafening sound of the drill bit tearing through frozen rock and the constant whine of the heavy engine left him in a state of almost total sensory deprivation. He no longer listened, no longer looked outside his 'canopy' window.

Instead, his eyes remained transfixed upon his instrument panel. He watched the depth gauge anxiously. It had been weeks since the company had landed him on this God forsaken rock and he hated every moment of it. It was freezing, power constantly went out in their pre-fabricated buildings, supplies were often spoiled or of poor quality to begin with, the wind on the surface was unpredictable and often got up to gale force levels making sleep an impossibility. But most of all he missed his wife and daughters and wanted nothing more than to get back to them once they had drilled to their obligatory depth. After that, research teams with geologists (already on station) would take a gander at the minerals therein and decide whether or not the planetoid warranted a full on mining operation.

As his eyes glazed over while he listlessly watched the depth meter the drill bit suddenly began to grind upon something it could not penetrate. The great rumbling was enough to shake Tyson from his drone-like lull and he frantically checked his systems to see what was happening. A loud screeching sound shattered the windows of his canopy and the drill began to sheer while it tried boring ever-deeper into a material it simply could not. Finally, after a horrendous crash and screeching sound the drill shattered apart, a feat Tyson thought impossible. Under the stress the engine of his tractor began to stutter. He flipped the behemoth into reverse and attempted to back out of the lengthy tunnel he had dug. The passageway was choked with the smoke of his overwrought engine. He just barely managed to get the monstrosity out of the hole before the engine cut and the tractor died completely.

The agonizing sounds the vehicle and drill had made were enough to draw the attention of the other contractors. That gathered around the tractor while Tyson got out.

"Ah damn it, Tyson, you blew the freaking bit!" Kenneth Castro, the project leader, shouted as he approached.

"I don't know what the hell happened, boss!" Tyson frantically exclaimed. "I was burrowing away without a problem and then all of a sudden I hit something."

"Well if you were paying attention you'd have backed off the damn throttle instead of destroying a hundred thousand credit drill bit!" Castro was fuming.

"Sorry, boss," Tyson tried pleading.

"Sorry ain't going to cut it, dummy," Castro seethed. He exhaled and looked around at his wide-eyed crew. One of his engineers was looking at the drill's damage.

"Look at the sheering, boss. I've never seen anything like it," the engineer announced. Castro's eyes peered at the damage. Indeed, neither had he. Usually a drill tip became blunted or the hydraulic systems were damaged or destroyed from pressure, but this looked like the drill just ground itself into dust against something.

"Well, let's go have a look."

A crew of about five men plodded down the deep, dark tunnel. Their flashlights cascaded off the icy rock facings the drill had bore through creating an eerie feel. Silence, save for their footsteps, fell over the lot of them.

"How far down?" Castro asked, a chill ran through his spine, even in his environmentally controlled EVA suit.

"Not much further," Tyson commented, leading the pack.

Their lights went from beaming down what seemed like a deepening abyss to suddenly illuminating what appeared to be a cavern wall. It was dark and foreboding in appearance and Castro saw as they got closer that it was far too smooth to be a geological formation.

"What the hell is this?" one of the men asked, alarmed by the sight of it.

"Don't know," Castro said aloud to himself as his gloved hand ran across the surface of the thing. If only he wasn't wearing this damned suit, he could feel it. There was something about it; even through his suit he could feel a slight, almost non-existent hum that seemed to reverberate in the very confines of his own mind.

"Maybe an alien artifact or something… Protheans?" Tyson stated. Murmurs rippled through the small crowd.

"Well then we need to halt the dig and call corporate," one of the other miners began.

"No. No, we're not calling corporate," Castro whipped around immediately, his eyes narrowed on the men. "No sense in that."

"But sir, company policy states if any aliens constructs or artifacts are unearthed during a dig than all progress is to be put on standby and that the corporate office should be contacted," another miner was adamant.

"Jesus Christ, Merv! Why do you think that is?" Castro lashed out.

"Safety?" the confused minor put forth.

"No, man. Jesus, no. Corporate wants us all to clear out then they come in with their own people and clean the place out. This is a gold mine here, I know it. They'd make loads of money off of whatever is inside this thing and we'd be none the wiser," Castro illuminated the others on the finer points of corporate greed.

"Really?"

"Yes! Think about it for just a second. We could just go in on our own, we've got the tools to crack this thing," the project manager stated.

"Uh, no we don't," Tyson blurted.

Castro remembered then that the drill had been destroyed. If this object had destroyed their bit then there really wasn't anything they could do. He reluctantly put his hand upon the structure, his heart aching for a solution and his mind yearning for the comforting feel of the low hum which only he could feel. He wanted it to embrace him fully and surely that was a possibility from within the construct. "Please," he muttered to himself.

A deep rumbling began then, enough to make the other men nervous. With a suddenness that frightened everyone assembled the wall of the alien structure suddenly retracted and then slid upward in one quick motion, as if it were a door. Some of the men stepped back… aghast. Others narrowed their eyes and shined their lights into the musty interior of the structure, curiosity quickly taking hold of their adventurous side.

Castro was the first to step forward. His gait was resolute and his posture reaffirming. "C'mon guys, let's get in there and take a look. What's the worst that could happen?"


	8. Return

CHAPTER EIGHT: RETURN

Omega hadn't changed. It would never change. It was still the same stinking piss-hole that Miranda had described to Shepard at the start of their long mission just a few months ago. The sounds of the place echoed throughout the docking corridor that led from the Normandy into the seedy belly of the hollowed out old asteroid.

The stench was as prevalent as ever. The smell of mildew, sweat, grease, and every alien species' bodily fluids wafted amongst the recycled air. Shepard's nostril twitched as the reek tried to infiltrate his olfactory glands. The stink was enough to sting the eyes if you weren't accustomed to it. However, Shepard had grown used to such things; the smell of a barracks was never good- not as bad- but never good.

"Extranet reports indicate Aria is in the middle of a turf war with an unknown turian. There isn't much information to go on, but it's likely she's vacated her residence at the Afterlife," EDI reported over their communication's channel.

"We'll start there," Shepard said aloud.

"Who would be stupid enough to take on Aria?" Garrus enquired.

"Just before we met up with you in your old base I found a data pad with information on it that suggested the Blood Pack and Eclipse were aligning themselves together to take her on," Shepard told him as they proceeded down the corridor. Reegar marched in silence beside them. Olivia had remained aboard the Normandy.

"We decimated their ranks, killed their leaders, you really think they'd try and take Aria on after all of that?" Garrus continued. His beady black eyes scanned the area attentively. Returning to Omega always left him with a feeling of discomfort and uneasiness. He was always alert, but there was something about Omega that made him even more on edge, almost to the level of absurdity.

"We're going to find out."

Afterlife was still alive with its usual crowd of inebriated, Hallex induced, club patrons. Clusters of chattering people gathered around a central holographic pillar, around it a stage was constructed for asari and human exotic dancers who gyrated rhythmically to the sounds of electronic music blaring overhead while neon lights flashed vibrantly all around them.

The flashing beams were enough for Shepard to have to squint, they were bright and irritating. He halted just beyond the entrance, using his substantial training to help him analyze the situation. He casually surveyed the area attempting to sense if anything was amiss. But on Omega, there was always something amiss. He vainly tried to spot Aria upon the veranda she once used to lord herself over the club.

Calmly, he and the others approached the stairwell leading up to her personal booth. Grizz, the turian bodyguard that was normally standing watch there was gone; in his place stood a hefty, snarling krogan who peered at Shepard suspiciously.

Shepard studied the krogan and immediately felt as though something was wrong. The krogan was clad in heavy armor and held a combat shotgun firmly in his clutches. But his armor was not marked by any mercenary brand, he wasn't Blood Pack and certainly not Eclipse. So what was going on?

Shepard didn't know much about Aria, but he'd never seen a krogan in her employ, save for the Patriarch…

"Something's not right," Shepard strained to say over the booming sound of the metrical tunes. The sounds of it seethed and pulsed all around the trio and groups of eager patrons began dancing with one another, intoxicated by spirits and Hallex. They writhed against one another, their sweat glistening in the incandescent glow of the club.

Reegar and Garrus searched the crowd, their eyes scrutinized the room looking for a threat, but Shepard's glare remained fixed upon the krogan who watched him in turn. The crowd of dancers pressed upon them and then engulfed them, the people too high to care whom they absorbed into the mix.

"Hey…" a 'young' asari maiden began, her lithesome arms delicately wrapped about the former Spectre's neck. "You want to have some fun with me?" She was attractive, like all of her kind and her eyes were glazed over- likely from an abundance of Hallex. She leaned in to kiss Shepard as if something in his eyes had indicated such an action was appropriate.

Shepard dodged the kiss and untangled the maiden's arms from his neck.

"Run along," Reegar told her. She sneered and stomped off, upset over the rejection.

Finally, the krogan decided he did not like what he saw and proceeded up the stairs into the private booth.

"What's going on?" Garrus wanted to know, laboring to hear over the admittedly catchy beats.

"We…" Shepard paused, craning his neck to see if he could tell who the krogan was talking to. Suddenly the krogan came back into view upon the balcony where Aria had stood in the past. Beside him was a gray, vicious looking turian. The krogan pointed down into the crowd, presumably at Shepard and his team. "We need to leave."

Reegar and Garrus were confused, but they followed their commanding officer as he pushed his way back towards Club Afterlife's entrance. But they were now amidst a sea of dancing customers. Asari, humans, salarians, turians, they all vibrated to the entrancing music.

With determination Shepard waded through them, trying his best to part them without too much disruption, though they seemed oblivious to it.

"Hey!" a deep voice called out. "Stop!" It was the krogan from the base of the staircase. He and the others kept pushing. The krogan's weapon was aimed toward them, seeking a clear shot to open fire. Finally he decided it wasn't worth the chance of them escaping and loosed a blast from his powerful weapon. Screams rose up above the din and several patrons dropped- their unarmored bodies shredded by the krogan's blast.

Shepard looked back, surprised that the alien would unleash his deadly cannon in the confines of the club. At the doors a human and a turian blocked their path… Some of the crowd was trying to escape the krogan and his weapon, pressing against those who had not heard the shot or were too high or confused to understand what was happening.

Likewise, the two guards at the door must not have heard the krogan's gunfire, for they simply halted the trio's advance. "You're not going anywhere," the turian said, brandishing an assault rifle.

With haste Shepard drew his Carnifax hand cannon and in one fell-swoop placed the barrel under the chin of the turian and pulled the trigger. The upper half of the avian-like skull evaporated in a cloud of brains and fragmentation. The limp body of the guard dropped to the deck and shocked onlookers began to join in the screaming.

Without hesitation Reegar drew a blade and dispatched the gawking human guard, who stood wide-eyed at the sudden death of his peer. Reegar held the weight of the dying man up for a moment before lightly lying him down upon the ground. The human desperately clutched at his carotid artery, which was now awash with his own blood.

A quick glance behind them and they could see the krogan was nearly on top of them. A line of guards followed his bulky mass.

More gunshots rang out as men in the crowd fired upon Shepard, Reegar, and Garrus- having seen the violent end of their fellows. The crowd let out another roar of panic, some dropped toward the ground while others surged for the exit, knocking down some of the armed men amongst them.

"Let's move!" Shepard ordered. The doors to the club slid open and they dashed out, free from the oppressive confines within. They sprinted down the hallway lit by electronic fires but stopped near the end when gunfire peppered the exit. They turned to see the krogan and several others shooting at them.

A well placed shot from Garrus' sniper rifle pierced the skull of an armored batarian, evacuating his skull's contents all over his suddenly horrified mate. The terror was short lived, however, as the turian soon trained his sights on that man and dropped him as well.

"Not here, too many bystanders!" Shepard shouted. Garrus grit his teeth, but agreed. They fled from the establishment, but the krogan and his cohorts did not give chase.

Sweat flowed freely down the side of Shepard's weathered face. His lungs heaved and burned ever-so-slightly from the exertion he had just put upon them. It was evident he wasn't quite back in the level of shape he had once been. The trio had made haste from the club, disappearing into the crowds of the market area.

"What was that about?" Kal'Reegar questioned. He looked back to see if anyone had pursued, but it appeared their trail was clear.

"No idea," Shepard admitted, wiping his hand across his forehead to dispel some of the excess sweat.

"Must be the guy Aria is at war with," Garrus noted. It had been what Shepard was thinking. Things must have been bad for Aria if that was the case. Afterlife had functioned as a sort of headquarters for her operation- if this turian had managed to take it then Shepard surmised that Aria was on the losing side of the war. He found that hard to believe, but then no one's luck lasted forever.

Reegar suddenly showed signs of alarm as a turian enshrouded in heavy robes approached. The quarian Marine instinctively drew his sidearm and jammed it in the ribs of the newcomer, drawing him closer and shoving him before Shepard.

"This one was following us," Reegar told the Commander.

"Wait, wait, I want to talk to Shepard," the turian blurted. He removed the hood on his over garment.

"Grizz," Shepard muttered. It was one of Aria T'Loak's bodyguards. He had acted as an intermediary between Shepard and Aria when his boss wanted the Patriarch situation taken care of.

"Surprised to see you fleeing out of Afterlife like that, you wouldn't happen to be looking for Aria?" Grizz questioned quickly. He looked around suspiciously, hopeful that no one saw the two.

"As a matter of fact I am," Shepard explained. "Where is she? What's happened?"

"Some bastard turian… I don't know the details, but things aren't good," the criminal admitted. "I can take you to see her; I think she'll be happy to see you. She'd heard you were back on Omega."

"Happy to see me?" Things must have been dire if Aria had any emotion regarding Shepard at all. He'd recalled how little his appearance on Omega had affected her after his death.

The group followed the turian down several levels into a low-rent apartment section of the space station. Shepard noticed a limp in Grizz's step, an obvious side effect of a wound he must have suffered during the turf war that had led to Aria's exile from Afterlife.

Beggars, bums and urchins lined the corridors and walkways in this section of Omega. Though it seemed impossible, this particular neighborhood actually smelled worse than the scent that greeted Shepard and his team once they'd stepped off the Normandy. The putrid stench of spoiled food was carried on along their path and Grizz explained that people in this part of the station were too poor to afford fresh food, so they got discounted prices from vendors for goods that had spoiled because of missed shipment dates, or they simply scavenged through the garbage on the higher levels, seeking anything and everything that was edible. But edible was a broad term and judging by the smell of things Shepard didn't think any of what they could have found would be edible.

Vorcha hissed at them as they passed and bickered between one another, their sharp yellow teeth showing clear as day in the red and blue lights of the ward. Red, bulbous eyes watched them pass with suspicion and inkling hunger- were they prey to be taken advantage of? Certainly their weapons and armor would sell for a kingly price and allow one to live comfortably in these parts for a time…

Finally they stopped before a dilapidated looking apartment. The graffiti scrawled across the walls was either gang related or simply artwork done by the youths in the area, young people desperately seeking an alternative to the dreaded level of crime that took place. A single batarian guard stood watch outside the door, though he appeared unassuming and cloaked similarly to Grizz.

"Inside," Grizz told them and motioned with a shake of his head. Shepard held his gaze on the wounded turian for a moment and then proceeded inside. Grizz and the batarian waited outside.

If this was Aria T'Loak's quarters than the asari crime boss had fallen a long way. Gone were the fine rugs and furniture, or the expensive appliances and entertainment systems; there were no dancers for entertainment and no music reverberated within the crummy, dingy walls of the small studio. Only Aria, sitting dismally in a worn seat, her hand rubbing her temple and an appearance on her face as if it indicate she was deep in thought. Then she noticed her visitors.

"Shepard," she began. She looked at him and her face took on a kind of serenity. She was calm now, putting up a front- a show of potency for a man she had boasted her strength to only months before. '_I am Omega',_ were her words after all, but that certainly wasn't the case now. "What brings you back to Omega?"

"I think a better question would be how you ended up in these slums," Shepard inquired matter-of-factly, crossing his arms expectantly.

She closed her eyes lightly as if thinking of an appropriate response, or considering how much she wanted to tell Shepard. A slight smirk crept upon her face and her tongue ran slowly across her smooth lips as she opened her eyes once more. "War," she said brusquely.

"With who?"

"A turian by the name of Vitus," Aria told him, studying those accompanying him. She recognized his turian companion… it was Archangel.

"Mercenary?" Shepard pressed.

"No… he was one of mine. He worked with the organization for a few years, I guess the entire time he was undermining my authority and making underhanded, shady deals with members of my crew," she exclaimed. A chuckle erupted from her devilish mouth and she shook her head ruefully. "Oddly enough he played the same card I played on the Patriarch. I guess he learned well."

"No one stays on top forever in Omega," Garrus interjected. He thought the end to Aria's reign was fitting. He'd never liked her, though in his vigilante days he had never attempted to take her on. It would have been suicide at the time, she was just too powerful. But it was all crumbling around her now and Garrus would revel in it.

"I don't need you to educate me on the finer points of politics in Omega," Aria growled.

"The Queen sounds a bit pissed off over the collapse of her kingdom," Garrus teased.

"Shut your damn mouth!" Aria snarled, her biotic powers flared up around her. "You're just an impotent whelp! I should have killed you when you were running around here pretending to make a difference!"

Garrus stepped forward and drew his pistol, then sighted in on Aria's forehead. "You say that like you had the chance."

"Oh, I had the chance!" She took a step forward, scowling and Garrus' finger lightly rested upon the trigger of his weapon.

"Enough!" Shepard stepped between the two of them. The last thing he needed was a powerful biotic sparking off her powers in close proximity with Garrus firing wildly back at her in response.

The asari's powers faded and the purple aura surrounding her dissipated. Garrus remained in place for a moment, aimed in on the criminal boss who had once ruled Omega with an iron fist. After a second or so and a stern glare from Shepard he holstered his handgun.

"So, now that I answered your question, why don't you answer mine?" Aria asked, regaining her composure and taking a seat upon the worn chair once again. She crossed her legs femininely, a posture that hid her great biotic strength and her bloody-mindedness.

"I'm recruiting another crew," Shepard told her with a bit of hesitation.

"Oh, what happened to the others?" Aria asked with feigned interest.

"The Collectors…" Shepard uttered the name of his most recent foe lowly.

"Still having problems with them, eh?"

"No, they've been dealt with," Shepard's eyes hardened and he set them upon the asari. "But the Reaper threat is still out there."

"Reapers? But the Citadel and your precious Alliance don't seem to think they exist," Aria mused with a wave of her hand. "Sovereign was just a geth ship."

"You don't really believe that…"

"No, I'm not some mindless sheep that listens to the drivel on the galactic news and accepts it as fact. I've been around a long time, Shepard and I've seen and done a lot of bad shit- one thing I know is that whatever the government mouthpiece is saying, the reality is always much worse. Besides, why would anyone bring you back from the dead to fight something that wasn't much of a threat in the first place," Aria expounded in her even tone.

Shepard said nothing. She was right after all and it was clear she knew more about the situation then she had ever let on in their first encounter.

"How about a proposition?" she began again. Shepard's brow rose with interest. "You help me and I'll help you."

"Help you with what?" Garrus interrupted snidely.

"Help me with Vitus," Aria explained calmly to the former Archangel. She rose again from her chair and approached Shepard and the turian. Her sexy stride caught both their attention, she certainly took advantage of her prominent sexuality in order to try and seduce someone to her will. It was probably what helped her become successful in the first place.

"What do you want?" Shepard asked in an attempt to stifle some of her attractive aura. Her keen eyes stared into his and they took on an almost sinister appearance.

"I want Vitus dead. I want revenge. You help me kill him and I'll help you in your merry little crusade against the Reapers," she offered in an alluring voice.

Shepard shifted his weight, peering at the asari crime boss. "You'd join my crew?"

"Yes."

"But if we kill Vitus isn't it more likely you just go back to ruling your little criminal Empire here on Omega?" Garrus challenged haughtily.

Aria sneered at the turian. "No. I can't trust anyone in my crew anymore. Vitus managed to demolish my entire organization in just two months time. He turned nearly everyone against me; even some that I thought would never betray me. Only a handful of men stayed loyal and of those only two are left," her eyes led to the door of the apartment, indicating that she meant only Grizz and the batarian remained loyal. "I have nothing left; just a deep, burning hatred for the bastard that took it all from me."

Shepard was quiet. He was thinking the offer over. It was an appetizing one. Aria was no laughing matter. She was an extremely powerful biotic, someone who had survived decade after decade in the nefarious criminal underworld. She'd survived gang wars and assassination attempts, betrayals and ambushes and before all of that she had been an asari commando. Her strengths were obvious, but the setbacks to having her as a part of the crew weren't as apparent. She was used to being in charge- would she take orders from Commander Shepard? Would she risk her life for her fellow crewmates? Would she abandon the mission when it was no longer convenient for her to pursue its objective? Or would she simply not agree to fight for Shepard at all after he helped her achieve what she set out to do?

"There's only one boss on my ship, Aria… and that's me," he told her firmly.

She smiled. "If I have to take orders from someone it could only be you."

"All right then…" Shepard glanced at his comrades and then back at the asari. "We have a deal."

"Great. Now let's go kill the bastard!"


	9. Revenge

**CHAPTER NINE: REVENGE**

"This is where the son of a bitch lives," Aria rumbled lowly, pointing to a well-guarded penthouse structure within a richer portion of Omega. It wasn't all that far from where Morinth, the asari Ardat-Yakshi, had taken Shepard in an attempt to seduce and ultimately kill him. Fortunately, that was part of the plan- as Shepard and Morinth's mother Samara, a Justicar, had planned things to go that way. In the ensuing battle Samara had killed her daughter and continued on in the fight against the Collectors as a member of Shepard's crew.

"Any family?" Garrus asked with concern.

"Don't think so," Aria responded with a scowl. "He should be on the top floor."

"All right so what's the plan?" Shepard asked, but before he got a response Aria simply strutted toward the entrance. "What the hell is she doing?"

The long, sexy stride of the asari seemed to give off a shockwave of confidence and danger. Her approach immediately drew the attention of the guards both inside and outside of the building. Many of them recognized her as their old boss and others knew her as the woman their current boss so desperately wanted dead.

The first couple men took a few steps backward, frightened by the prospect of dealing with her rage. A purplish haze flared up around her and the very air seemed to ripple and boil. An orb of that same rippling, purple-haze formed in her palm and she cast it toward a batarian guard. The man screamed out in a blood curdling manner as the singularity struck him and he felt his insides turn to mush by the intense suction created by the attack.

Her two loyal guards, the turian Grizz and the batarian Lusk began opening fire with their own weapons, catching the awestruck guards by surprise. Several of them were felled by mass-accelerated rounds before they returned fire.

Shepard and his team were caught unprepared by Aria's sudden assault, but soon joined the fray. Commander Shepard and Kal'Reegar both broke cover and moved forward to join the asari and her underlings. Shepard activated the incendiary function on his Revenant and Reegar likewise utilized armor-piercing rounds.

The clatter of gunfire soon overtook the entire corridor as screaming civilians ran for cover, desperately seeking refuge from the war that had suddenly erupted nearby.

A heavy, low, boom conquered the more persistent chatter of the assault rifles. It was Garrus' Mantis, reaching out and touching someone. A human henchman clenched a chest wound, compliments of Garrus. A swift blast from Aria sent the same man careening into the wall, leaving a cracked surface and a bloody trail behind.

Super heated rounds streaked by the assaulting force, but they paid it little mind. Their shields flickered as several mass-accelerated rounds found their targets. After a brief glimmer the shield's stabilized and the advance continued. Aria reinforced her shield strength with a biotic barrier. She charged forward, lashing out at any henchman nearby.

One man was ripped from the ground, suspended in the air by her rage fueled biotic strength and then crushed and discarded like a rag doll. His lifeless form was thrown meters away and he bounced upon the deck like a rubber ball.

Five-round bursts from Reegar's assault rifle echoed amidst the cacophony. Accurate streams of fire pinpointed enemies and drained their shields of any protective quality at which point the quarian Marine would finish them off, or Shepard would assist in dispatching them.

In only a few short moments the attacking force had destroyed the guards outside the residence and slaughtered several inside. They now advanced up the staircase, halting only as they received fire from the foes who desperately hoped to win in this fruitless engagement. They knew now, they had chosen the wrong side- they had not backed Aria and now she was making them pay for it.

Shepard blasted one of the men with a concussive shot just as his shield died out. The shock of the round caved in the man's chest and he fell back against the wall, choking and gasping for air. Blood spurted freely from his mouth and he sensed that death was near. As the advancing assault team passed him by he desperately clutched at his attackers with bloodied claws. Blue liquid poured from the chest wound.

Reegar was bringing up the rear and saw the turian criminal choking on his own blood. With a tight, accurate stream of gunfire the Marine killed the henchman, ending his slow misery.

The hallway leading to the master bedroom became a chaotic firestorm of brutal death and rampant biotic powers. Aria tore through the hallway, demolishing furniture, tearing up carpet and burning the paint off of walls as she advanced. Her biotic powers propelled the criminals into the walls with ridiculous force, crushing bones and damaging internal organs. Those she missed were mopped up by Shepard and the others.

Shepard was surprised by the hell-storm she unleashed. He had never seen her in action and had always just imagined her as a powerful asari. Now he saw it on display and he watched her execute her actions with a seething hatred, a bloodlust he had only seen in krogans. She spared no man or woman; if her initial attack had not killed them they were left to be cripples. Shepard, Garrus and Reegar ended any misery the slow-dying felt.

The fight intensified just as they reached the master bedroom's entrance. A set of heavy oak double doors were all that lay between Aria and her prey and a handful of distressed criminals tried to frantically keep her out.

An intense biotic wave careened into them, splattering their innards against the wall, another burst and the door gave way- transforming into a maelstrom of splinters. The wrathful asari crime boss entered the room, followed closely by her team.

She looked about the interior furiously, it was lavishly designed. Expensive furniture and an entertainment system decorated the room and a monstrous, inviting bed sat along the center of the northern wall, but there was no sign of Vitus.

There was one soul within, however, a quivering asari whom Aria immediately noticed. She snatched the girl up in a biotic field and raised her from the floor. The blue-skinned alien was dressed in normal clothes, what appeared to be a semi-provocative nightgown.

"Who the fuck are you!" Aria demanded angrily.

"Canira," the asari struggled to say.

"And what does that mean to me?" Aria wished to know.

"I'm- his wife… Vitus' wife," she muttered under duress. Shepard watched with distaste. He felt he should step in, but for some reason he did not.

"So where is your precious husband?" Aria commanded, narrowing her eyes on the pathetic asari and recognizing her as one of the dancers from Afterlife.

"He's… he's at… the club," Canira exclaimed laboriously.

Aria smirked and lowered the asari dancer then approached so that she was very close. "I remember you," she claimed calmly, canting her head and peering into the eyes of Canira. They had shared a few nights together when Aria ran things. "You weren't half-bad." The energy around the dancer flared up and she was catapulted into the wall across the room.

Aria turned to face Shepard, indicating they should leave. Shepard watched her anxiously, unsure if he had made the right decision to bring her along. He had certainly worked with people of questionable pasts and methods, but Aria was like an animal now- yet something about her intrigued him. "Let's go," she said.

"You bitch!" Suddenly the Asari dancer leapt to her feet and drew a weapon. Each shot was deflected by Aria's biotic barrier as she whipped around and once again captured the young Canira in the vice like grip of her biotic powers. The young asari squealed and let out a horrendous cry as her bones began to crush one by one as a result of the pressure Aria exerted upon her. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she let out yet more cries at which point Aria showed mercy and pulverized her internal organs. A crumpled body collapsed into a grotesque heap upon the floor and Aria once again addressed Shepard.

"Shall we?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Was that necessary?" Shepard asked, put off by the display of severe violence.

"I gave her a chance. She decided to shoot me from behind," the asari biotic briskly passed Shepard, giving him a puckish sideways glance and a mischievous smirk. "And no one takes me from behind unless I let them."

The pulsating music of Club Afterlife was loud enough to hear even from outside the confines of its sinful walls. The beat continued on and on and the thought of the crowd dancing to it like drones popped up into Commander Shepard's head.

What must it be like to live so free of concern? What sort of life did these people live when they weren't freeing themselves on the dance floor and allowing their inhibitions to float away after dosing themselves with Hallex? Thoughts of Nef, a young girl killed by Morinth, crept to the forefront of his mind. She was just someone on Omega looking for something more and she'd been victimized… were these people the same? Ignorantly passing their time by grinding on strangers until something nefarious came along and ended the routine. How many people did that krogan shoot when Shepard and his team escaped earlier? And yet the club still had patrons… only in Omega…

"He probably doesn't know about the attack at his house; security should be light down here," Aria broke the Commander's thought. He glanced at her.

"How do you know?" he questioned suspiciously. The group of them was huddled in the tunnels below Club Afterlife- a dismal set of corridors lined with vorcha beggars. It was near a service entrance that led into the lower level of the club. Shepard had dispatched a pair of Blood Pack assassins hell-bent on ending the life of Aria's living krogan trophy Patriarch.

"This club would be shut down, fortified, and vacant of any guests, that's why," Aria affirmed. Her hand instinctively rested on the grip of her Tempest Submachine gun.

"I don't like it," Garrus grumbled. "We go in from the bottom and we're fighting our way upstairs the whole way, we're exposed from elevated positions with very little cover… not to mention he can escape through the front if things get ugly."

"That's why my people are out front," Aria whipped back.

"Your people haven't exactly been up to snuff," Garrus commented scathingly.

"They'll do their job," Aria sneered, concentrating an angry gaze on the turian sniper. "It sounds to me like you're just frightened you might get hurt."

"Tch," Garrus scoffed. "Shepard and I have cut through hordes of scum- this trash won't be any different."

"So what's your problem then?" Aria challenged. Her gaze was unwavering and irritated Garrus endlessly. He grit his teeth and shifted his weight.

"I'm with you, Shepard, whatever you decide," he finally said.

"Isn't that cute," Aria mocked. "What about the quarian?"

"Just point me in the right direction," Kal'Reegar asserted. His eyes were wandering, he was constantly aware of the area around them, ever alert for a possible threat.

"I like this one, Shepard."

"So we storm the place and take care of this Vitus character and then what?" Shepard questioned.

"Then I join your crew. Simple enough?"

"What about non-combatants. If this place is packed with people I don't want another warzone sparking off. We were here before and those thugs didn't have any qualms about killing innocents," Shepard informed the asari.

"There are no innocents on Omega," Aria exclaimed.

"All the same."

"I'll clear them out, Shepard, don't worry yourself about it," the biotic alien assured him.

Reegar took point as the small team made its way inside the thumping establishment. A lone guard stood with his back turned to the lower tunnel entrance- a foolish idea given the current circumstances, but one he could not have anticipated. His dual set of beady batarian eyes lustfully ogled the many females dancing just a dozen feet away. A sinister grin crept upon his visage as dirty thoughts entered his mind.

The quarian Marine was a professional, never overzealous and always precise. Despite the head-splitting volume of Omega's hottest tracks, Kal'Reegar crept up on his prey so stealthily that he would have betrayed no cues even if the club was dead silent- reminding Shepard of videos he'd seen of Tigers back on Earth, still in their natural habitat and long before they went extinct.

The quarian slinked forward; his three-fingered hand slowly drew a knife from its sheath upon his chest and readied it for use. He was practiced in its application, knowing the best times to use it and how best to make it quick for the person he targeted.

Confusion entered the batarian's mind as a hand wrapped about his mouth, muffling any attempt to sound the alarm. But that bewilderment was only momentary as the Marine deftly drew his blade across the throat of the distracted henchman. His body jerked violently as if his own instincts were attempting a fruitless resistance, then warm liquid poured freely and the figure convulsed. Kal'Reegar laid the body down gently, wiped the steel of his blade upon the corpse's garments and placed it back in his sheath. Shepard didn't understand the decision he'd made for stealth, but admired the manner in which he carried it out.

Aria destroyed that attempt at stealth, pushing her way forward and igniting her biotic powers. "Listen up!" she shouted, her voice carried surprisingly well over the sound of the music. Many people turned to see the source of the threatening voice. "Everyone out- now!"

The confused crowd of party-goers stared at the asari queen with idle astonishment. Those that recognized her immediately began moving for the door. They were customers that frequented this haunt long before Aria lost control and knew that when her temper flared the body count was going to rise.

Impatient as she was, Aria fired a hefty 'bolt' of her biotic power. The mass effect disruption slammed into several members of the crowd who careened into the nearby bar or bounced off the floor with amusing results. Shepard glared at Aria.

"I won't say it again!" she threatened, feeling the Commander's disapproving stare.

Suddenly, like a pack of feral animals, the crowd realized the danger they were in and began a stampede for the exit. Screams came to a crescendo as individuals fought for position in the herd trying to escape the livid and deadly asari. She smirked at the sight; she may not have been the queen of Omega anymore, but she could still terrify a crowd.

This commotion quickly drew the attention of Vitus' guards who peeked around the corner to see the well-armed and armored team that had entered the premises. Behind them the crowd crashed upward along the hallway and staircase that would take them to Afterlife's upper level, the exit and safety.

Aria launched another mass effect field toward them in an attempt to cast them into the far wall, but the two men took cover and the blast dissipated as it came into contact with the sturdy bulkheads.

The two immediately opened fire in response to the asari's opening move, forcing Shepard and his team to dive for cover as mass-accelerated rounds zipped by, shredding tables and chairs with little difficulty.

Incendiary rounds from Shepard's Revenant machine gun slapped the wall which the two criminals sheltered behind; small flames sparked up along the length of the barrier and then disappeared.

The entire team drilled the criminal's cover, but to no avail. Club Afterlife was built like a bomb shelter and this certainly wasn't the first battle that had ever occurred within its walls. Their rounds did little in the way of damage and Vitus' men were smart enough to stay behind the convenient fortification to prevent a gruesome death.

"This should smoke them out," Reegar said suddenly. Shepard glanced over to see the quarian shouldering his wire-guided rocket launcher. He took a moment to sight his target and another for his finger to wrap about the trigger and then with a thunderous blast the rocket was propelled toward the doorway leaving a contrail in its wake.

A deafening crash followed next as the rocket detonated on the far wall within the hall the two men sheltered inside. The concussion from the blast sent them both reeling and they stumbled from their cover, dazed.

"I'll see you all dead!" Aria cried, unleashing a powerful shockwave that ripped through the club's floor before colliding with the two befuddled criminals, men that Aria recognized as former members of her own organization and thus traitors. The shockwave lifted them both from the ground with ease and scattered them like a strong gust of wind scatters leaves.

Their shields flickered and evaporated from the attack and Aria was on them in an instant. Her submachine gun rattled in her tight grip as she fired ceaseless streams into their helpless bodies. Her rage was ever-apparent as she slapped a new thermal clip in and continued to decimate their bodies.

"That's enough," Shepard ordered sternly over her gunfire. She acquiesced, but a hate-filled, enraged temperament was apparent upon her face.

She wasted little time and began her ascent of the staircase leading to the upper level of Club Afterlife, followed closely by Reegar and Garrus. Shepard was the last up the stairs and gazed upon the corpses of Aria's freshest kills, their bodies were riddled with gunfire. He shook his head solemnly and then followed the asari's path.

"Where are you Vitus!" Aria demanded in a commanding tone as she reached the apex of her climb to the top. The dance floor was empty, no exotic dancers shimmied upon the circular stage in the center of the building and no bartender manned the bar. Instead, only Vitus stood defiantly where the asari and human dancers had once plied their trade. He was calm, his hands tucked behind his back and a Scimitar assault shotgun slung over his shoulder.

"Right here, my dear," he told her tranquilly. He gazed down at her, a sardonic smirk made its way upon the carapace on his mandibles.

Her eyes darted upward. "I'm here for your head."

"Unfortunate that you won't be getting it then," the turian mused. He began to pace across the stage, his serene demeanor ever-prevalent.

"Your wife probably felt as safe… didn't help her any," she blurted with poison in her voice.

"My wife?" Vitus chuckled as he turned his gaze back upon the woman he'd usurped. "That wasn't my wife- just some asari whore… I'm surprised you couldn't tell- should've been like looking in the mirror."

Flames of purple seemed to erupt around Aria and the mass effect field she began to generate seemed to disturb the very atmosphere around her, as if the air was being boiled.

"Now, now, Aria, such a temper you have," Vitus mocked. "It's why people grew weary of your rule. You should take better care of your employees, appreciate their skills, and reward their loyalty… instead you focus upon their flaws and berate them for their mistakes. Is it any wonder they flocked to my banner."

"I'm done with that, Vitus. Lecture me all you want," the air within her right palm became corrupted as if she was readying an attack upon the turian. "But it won't change the fact that I'm going to kill you and rip your body to shreds!"

"I don't think so," the turian raised a hand and suddenly droves of armed men appeared. They were arrayed along the raised tiers that encircled the dance floor where Shepard and his team currently stood. Several more came jogging up the stairs from the lower level, after apparently following them discreetly into the club. Several more approached them from the front, completely encircling them. All of their weapons were trained upon the four operatives. "You're awfully easy to fool. It's amazing you've lived as long as you have. But then I always knew if I was going to bring you down I'd just have to get the better of your ill-temper."

"This doesn't change anything!" Aria snapped, her eyes darted back and forth at each of the turian's troops aligned against her. There was wildness in her eyes as if she was seriously considering attacking them- consequences be damned.

"Oh, I think that it does," Vitus continued evenly. Two limp bodies were brought forth and dumped before the asari and her new allies. It was Grizz and Lusk and both were dead.

"Now, unlike Aria I am a reasonable person," he began again, turning his attention to Shepard. "I don't have any real qualms with you and your people. I know who you are, I know you're a Spectre, I know you work for Cerberus and to be quite honest I don't need the attention of either of those organizations; so I'm willing to let you go. All you have to do is walk out that door and leave Aria to me."

Shepard focused on the turian.

"You killed several of my people and that pains me, my employees are very important to me. But I realize that you were coerced by our overzealous asari friend and I'm willing to look past it. Again, all you need to do is walk away," the turian pressed. He hardened his face and met Shepard's gaze.

"What will happen to Aria?" he asked with some interest.

"You don't have to worry about that," Vitus assured him.

"Suppose I do have to worry about it," Shepard responded with gravitas.

"What difference does it make? I suppose I'll hurt her… quite severely in fact, enough to de-fang the beast and then maybe I'll let my men share her, do what they will and punish her in the manner they see fit in order to make her pay for all her slights against them and against me, of course. Maybe I'll leave her crippled and broken and she can become my trophy as Patriarch was hers, a cautionary tale and a sign to anyone that might stand against me," Vitus began pacing once more and the sinister grin returned to his bony face.

With those words Aria's temper died down. Her mass effect field degenerated and the wild ferocity in her eyes went dead. For the first time in decades she felt worried, she felt scared. Her eyes softened uncharacteristically as they scanned the faces of all the angry criminals who pointed their weapons at her, expectantly awaiting Shepard to surrender her to them. She glanced back at him. "…Shepard… you promised me…"

Shepard looked at her and saw the pleading in her eyes, an odd contrast to the hate-filled irises he saw only moments before. It was odd to see her in this manner, she was proud and boastful and now she was at the edge… on the precipice of death and it would not be quick or painless for her. Part of him felt like she deserved it. He knew very little of her past, but was well enough aware of her methods- she was brutal, unnerving and free of guilt and now it seemed she was reaping what she'd sown. Not to mention the fact that he and his team were at a severe disadvantage that didn't seem to have any hope of ending well.

But on the other hand his heart ached with the thought of handing her over to a group of people just as wrong as she had been. Men and women who'd followed the same path Aria had taken many, many years ago and had only come out as the lesser, finding themselves employed by her rather than vice-versa. And why was that? Because they were weak and because Aria knew how to survive, knew how to manipulate others to get what she wanted and because she was strong.

His face contorted in contemplation and he closed his eyes as he thought. This was not going to be an easy decision to make.


	10. Quick Thinking

**Chapter Ten: Quick Thinking**

A bead of sweat ran the length of Shepard's unshaved jaw before reaching its final point upon his squared chin. It dangled there a moment but a slight shake of the Commander's head brought the little droplet careening into the yoke of his N7 armor.

This was a tough spot to be in, his soldierly gray eyes drifted from person to person and attempted to analyze the threats that surrounded him. There were a handful of batarians and turians, even a few humans- then there was Vitus standing high above them.

He had made up his mind in the intervening moments. He would not leave Aria; she may at some point deserve death, but certainly not the slow and painful one that Vitus advocated. Shepard could never sign off on something like that. More than that, however, he had given his word which had to mean something. His crew- his friends- were watching, and while Garrus and Kal'Reegar would likely agree with any decision he made, inwardly they might think less of him and he could not have that. He was the morale center of a chaotic world where the missions and objectives they endeavored upon could sometimes blur the line between good and bad. That was the nature of their operations, but Shepard had to be a stabilizing force. A ruthlessly consistent leader that put what was right before what was easiest and put the lives of those under his charge before his own safety.

The problem now was getting out of the situation he'd put himself in. He'd been careless, needlessly casting himself into the fray with the over-emotional Aria instead of being the precise Spectre that detached himself from any emotional link and focused on the mission and accomplishing the objective.

Aria's temper and her incessant need to vault forward and wreak havoc upon those that stood against her would need to be tempered. Shepard had always been amazed by the near military-like discipline his last team had maintained despite being cobbled together from an array of different places. They were all individuals, but they came together to make a highly effective and supremely motivated small unit. He needed that again and Aria's attitude wasn't conducive to creating it.

He replaced the Revenant Machinegun upon his back, its rigid frame breaking down into a more convenient size like all weapons of the time did for sake of transportation.

Aria stood as stiff as a statue. Her fate, for the first time in a century, was unknown to her. Had she propelled Shepard into a situation he couldn't win? He could easily betray her now and leave her to die by the hands of Vitus' men and some of her own. A sour taste entered her mouth. Could she blame him though? Wouldn't she do the same if she was in his position? She would certainly forsake any tenuous alliance she'd formed in order to escape alive, doing so had saved her skin more than a handful of times in the past. So why did she feel so betrayed now?

This was Commander Shepard, this was the first human Spectre, the man that defeated Sovereign and the geth and saved the Citadel and the Council. She had no love for the Council and cared very little for the Citadel, yet these feats could not be denied and the way he drew people to his cause was admirable. He led in an entirely different way than she ever had and his people were loyal unto death. Betrayal just didn't feel like a card that the Commander would ever play. She heard the sound of a weapon being drawn and the mechanical ratcheting as it extended to its full length.

Shepard trained the barrel of his Carnifax hand cannon on the base of the asari's skull and stepped forward. His gloved hand gripped her shoulder tightly and brought her back to the point where the barrel of his sidearm was pressing against her blue skin.

"Don't kill her, Shepard. I may want her dead, but I want her alive first," Vitus exclaimed in his tinny pitch.

"I don't have any guarantee you won't kill my team as soon as I hand her over to you," Shepard accused in a calm manner. He began to sidestep through the group of henchman positioned on his left.

"You have _my_ guarantee, Commander," Vitus assured him, watching as the human and his companions slowly began to shuffle away. The group of them now slowly progressed beyond the bar and Vitus followed. His men's weapons were trained on them and likewise Shepard's two alien comrades had their weapons up and ready to fire, aiming in on several different targets in quick succession.

"That's not good enough for me. I'm going for the door. When I get there, you can have her and then I'm leaving," Shepard dictated the terms of the deal confidently. His eyes remained fixed upon Vitus, indicating he meant business.

Vitus grit his teeth and his mandibles flexed tightly. This human was bold. The turian didn't like having terms dictated to him, but in this instance he didn't have a choice. He wanted Aria alive, there was much he meant to repay her for and he didn't want this overzealous human to put a hole in the back of her head before he had his chance to do that.

Every weapon in the club was trained on the group as they continued to make their way toward the exit. The rhythmic sound of the beats bumping in the background continued as loud as ever, but everyone seemed to ignore them.

"Shepard, what's going on," Garrus questioned. He kept his Vindicator assault rifle tightly in place in the pocket of his shoulder. He preferred the Mantis sniper rifle, but this was close quarters and no place for a single shot rifle.

"We're leaving," Shepard stated sharply. Aria was still confused about her fate. "Reegar, how many rockets do you have left?"

"I'd say about seven, Commander," Reegar replied with little thought. He too, had a Vindicator assault rifle at the ready.

"As soon as we get to the door and things go south I want you to spread the pain," Shepard explained, still shuffling for the exit.

"Are you planning on things going south?" Reegar asked lowly.

"Yes."

"All right then, I can spread the pain," the quarian Marine said slyly.

At last the cluster of personnel arrived at their destination. The four of them were positioned near the exit of Club Afterlife. Shepard gripped his pistol tightly, wiggling his fingers a bit to relieve some of the tension.

Garrus and Reegar posted themselves nearby a set of tables they could overturn and use as cover.

"Aria, think you still have some fight left in you?" Shepard questioned with a smirk.

"Of course."

"Well, human, you're at the exit. Give me Aria and as I said- you can go," Vitus pressed, beginning to get impatient.

"I'm not giving you, Aria," Shepard began. He shoved the asari crime boss forward.

"But you-"

"Lied?" Shepard aimed up at Vitus and fired a stream of six heavy rounds at the turian. His shield flickered and failed.

Before his henchman could react Aria unleashed a heavy biotic wave which slammed into all of them, tossing nearly each of them to the ground like a child's plaything. This same blast vaulted Vitus from his overhead position upon the dance platform. He crashed into a table on the opposite side of the club, shattering several glasses.

Tables overturned and streaks of gunfire cascaded across the glowing interior of the club. Before Vitus' people could right themselves entirely Kal'Reegar was launching his wire-guided rockets at targets of opportunity as well as those he thought posed the greatest threat.

Explosions rocked the upper deck of the club and fireballs from the blasts consumed the criminals. Screams echoed from above as several of the people dove from the upper floor in order to escape Reegar's accurate and deadly rocket fire.

Tight streams of assault rifle fire from Garrus found targets along the club's dance floor. Turians and humans alike scattered or died where they stood, their varying colors of blood painting the already multi-colored floor.

Some men dove behind the bar, but found the position lacking in any safety when Garrus turned his attention to them. Armor-piercing ammunition shredded the bar, sending a maelstrom of splinters and chunks of other debris into the air. The gunshots riddled men and women alike huddled behind the barrier.

One managed to stand and release a few rounds toward the turian agent. "Firing a high impact shot!" Garrus called out. A heavy concussive shot streaked by, slamming into the armored chest of the batarian. He felt the impact upon his armor, felt the buckling of the chest-piece and the intense pain that followed. He collapsed back into the bar, blood streaming from his fanged mouth.

Shepard assisted in dispatching several of the others. His incendiary ammo lay waste to the club, setting tables on fire and shattering glasses, bottles, plates and canned beverages. A human female attempted some foolish move, perhaps learned from an action film, as she launched herself from behind cover in a diving leap with two pistols drawn. She fired a dozen rounds in Shepard's direction, but her shots were inaccurate and only a few found their target. Those shots were easily deflected by the considerable strength of Shepard's shields. He returned fire upon her, using the fundamentals of marksmanship, his gunfire was accurate and deadly. By the time she'd completed her leap and landed upon her side in the open her shields were down, a concussive shot from Shepard finished her off and her body slid backward along the floor from the blast, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

Reegar had since run out of rockets, but charged forward almost like a krogan. A startled batarian tried to open fire on the attacking quarian as the quarian leapt over the table he was cowering behind, but Reegar was already too close. He slapped the batarian's rifle aside, drew his knife, and drove it into the batarian's chest- easily penetrating the armor. The batarian stumbled backward- aghast. His turian companion came to his aide, but it was a fruitless attempt. The batarian stumbled backward and crumpled upon the floor, his turian friend was quick to join him as Reegar finished him off with two bursts from his Vindicator.

Aria's rage had reignited, the fear and sense of betrayal which she had turned inward now escaped her body in the form of a biotic explosion. Purple flames ignited around her body and a sinister glow filled her eyes. She blasted people from where they trembled from Shepard and his team's gunfire. Leaving them susceptible to the incoming rounds. She didn't bother using her submachine gun, she only wanted to wreak havoc.

Shockwaves erupted from her figure, sending tiles of the club's floor rocketing in all directions and leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. The blasts struck their targets with immense force, over a thousand Newtons. Like rag dolls the criminals were sent flying in all directions, making them easy targets for the human, turian and quarian shooting at them.

Within a few minutes it was all over. The club was awash with the blood of turians, batarians and humans. Rivers of red, blue and green ran freely, mixing with one another and following a projected path toward the center of the club's dance floor, creating an immense lake that indicated a massacre had occurred.

Most of the lights were shot out and only a few still flickered their iridescent glow. Purples, pinks, reds, yellows, greens and blues still flecked by the wrecked area, but the music had long stopped playing. Instead, only the occasional moaning of a dying man or woman could be heard.

Vitus was unconscious for the entire display, still laying upon the table where Aria's biotic blast had left him. But he woke quickly when Aria mounted the table and grasped him by the scruff of his shirt, yanking him forward so that he was only inches from her devilish face.

"I want to know where he is!" she demanded with anger. He blinked several times, attempting to right himself. "Tell me or by the Goddess I will flay you alive!"

"I don't know… even I if I did I wouldn't tell you," Vitus said helplessly. He'd resigned himself to his death and lay almost limp in her clutches.

Shepard and the others arrived a moment later, their weapons still drawn but held casually at ease. They had been checking for any remaining threats.

"This is the last time I ask you. I'm going to make it slow and painful, Vitus, just like you wanted to do for me," she threatened menacingly.

The turian coughed up blood. "Do what you want, bitch."

Aria clenched her teeth, the same sinister glow ignited in her eyes and a hazy purple flame erupted around her body.

"Aria!" Shepard broke her anger. She glanced over at him and he glared at her disapprovingly.

She hesitated. Then looked at the Commander apologetically. "Sorry, Shepard. I have to do this."

She raised her hand into the air and then brought it down with significant force, delivering a severe blow to the turian's skull. As she made contact with the skull a massive force from her biotic powers transferred with the attack, scattering the remnants of the usurper's head all over the floor below the table. The body went limp and Aria released her grasp upon Vitus' collar.

Shepard closed his eyes and looked away, shaking his head contritely.

"You didn't have to kill him," Shepard charged. "It was unnecessary." They were back on the Normandy in the briefing room. Shepard stood firmly in place, now wearing his casual clothing. Garrus watched quietly as the asari and human exchanged words.

"It wasn't your decision to make, Shepard," Aria hissed vehemently.

"You had better understand that while you're a part of this ship and my crew I make the decisions and you had damn well better follow them," Shepard commanded sternly. He locked eyes on the former criminal.

"Oh, I understand that much, _Commander_," she said almost mockingly. "But we weren't on this ship and I wasn't a part of your crew so it wasn't your decision to make." Her voice was firm, almost menacing and Shepard wondered once more if this had been the wrong choice. The asari crossed her arms as if to indicate she was done discussing the matter.

"You know, you're awfully ungrateful for the help," Garrus broke in chidingly. "If it wasn't for the Commander you'd be dead by now."

"Put a sock in it, turian. If I wanted the opinion of a weakling I'd ask!" she lashed out, turning her attention to the turian.

"Weakling!" Garrus seethed, stepping toward her. "It would be a pleasure to show you just how weak I am," his flanging tone was threatening.

"Enough, both of you," Shepard broke in. "We have an important job to do. I won't have any infighting between my crew. Aria, I expect you to act with some discipline- this is a military ship and we run things in a manner suitable for a military vessel. When I give a command, you're going to follow it. It's a simple concept, if you have a hard time committing to that concept we'll leave you here on Omega. Are we clear?"

Aria turned her attention back to Shepard. Her eyes softened a degree or two and she shifted her weight. She didn't have anything to say. After all, there wasn't anything left for her on Omega. She could try to rebuild her Empire, but what were the chances of anyone following her? More likely one of the mercenary organizations would take advantage of the power vacuum left the in the wake of Vitus' organization's collapse.

"We're clear," she accepted his ultimatum. "So where am I staying in this rust bucket? I'd prefer some place no one is going to bother me."

"There's a small area below the engineering deck…" Shepard told her, referring to a place where Jack, a former member of his crew, once stayed. "It's probably your best bet if your looking for isolation."

"Fine. Let me know when you need me," she responded. She headed for the exit, but not without giving Garrus a sneer before she left.

"I don't know about that one, Shepard," Garrus observed after the doors slid shut. "Seems like a risk having her as a part of the team."

"I figured you'd be used to all the risks by now, Garrus," Shepard replied with a grin.

"True enough," Garrus chuckled. "Still, I think we should keep an eye on her. She's got a real problem with authority."

"Are you volunteering for that duty?"

"I guess I am now."

"I trust your judgment, Garrus. If the time comes when you think she'll endanger the lives of this ship or its crew then do what you have to do," Shepard said seriously.

"With pleasure," the turian stated. "I'll be below decks."

"Commander, message from the Illusive man comin' in," Joker chimed in suddenly, just as Garrus left the room.

"Put him through, Joker," Shepard expressed, turning to face the center of the room. The Normandy's status screen and the briefing platform in the center of the room lowered into the deck and the swirling tunnel of light reappeared, indicating the Commander now had a direct link with Illusive Man via the quantum entanglement device.

As usual, the billionaire sat comfortably in an expensive chair and swirling wisps of smoke rose from his aged lips. "Commander, impressive performance on Omega. Aria T'Loak should be a valuable asset to the team. I've been reviewing a profile my agents put together on her about a year ago; it seems she's a talented biotic," he commented in his relaxed, gentlemanly manner.

"She's a little rough around the edges," Shepard quipped.

"Indeed. But that's nothing new for you. I'm sure you'll mold her into a fine subordinate," the magnate assured the Commander, confident in the human's talents.

"What's this call about?" Shepard questioned, wanting to get to the point.

"My technicians have been doing some serious research on the debris of the Collector's base. You've made a real mess of things, Shepard," he declared.

"You called me just to irritate me?" Shepard answered, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

"No, we've made a few discoveries," the Illusive Man explained, tapping some of the considerable ash from his cigarette. "As you know the Collectors seemed to be controlled by a single being, a 'General' of sorts. He had the ability to take over any of the troops under his command at any moment, significantly boosting the offensive and defensive capabilities of any body he possessed. It's evident the Collectors were a tool used by the Reapers, but it seems their activities were directly controlled by the Reapers themselves."

"How is this news?" Shepard questioned.

"Well it indicates the Collectors weren't working of their own volition. They were essentially marionettes being manipulated by the Reapers. Basically, they were no longer sapient life, just tools being exploited by Reaper technology," the enigmatic figure clarified, his eerie blue eyes watched Shepard closely.

"This isn't much more than what we already assumed," Shepard responded.

"No, but it's a confirmation of what we suspected. It's leading to some interesting theories," another cloud of smoke rose from the man's lips and he adjusted himself in his seat.

"Like what?"

"For instance, it's possible the Reapers are of a hive mind. We have reason to think that they act based on the commands of a single entity. Like an ant might work for its colony's queen," the Illusive Man continued. He extinguished the light on his cigarette and rose from his chair.

"What brings you to that conclusion?" Shepard questioned attentively.

"EDI's examination of the Reaper Larvae you destroyed brings to light some startling information. It appears the Reapers utilize the genetic information of a conquered species to reproduce. Breaking down throngs of captured subjects into a genetic goop which they use to help construct a sentient organism that is part synthetic and part organic," the billionaire exclaimed. He clasped his hands behind his back and turned away from Shepard, his radiant eyes fixated on the swirling star that served as the backdrop of his 'office'.

"I thought that was only a theory," Shepard put in. His brow raised in curiosity.

"It is. But it's the best theory we can postulate. That theory leads to more interesting observations," he elucidated. The well-dressed businessman turned to face Shepard. "If the Reapers reproduce by means of conquering all sapient life and utilizing their genetic information to construct new Reapers then it follows that there was one Reaper in the beginning that started the entire cycle."

"And you think that's the hive-mind? The one calling the shots?" Shepard assumed.

"Yes, precisely. We can't be certain without more information. Quite simply, if you had left the base intact my scientists might be able to discover more. However, the way things are now, all they can do is make a hypothesis based on EDI's examination and their own based on minimal findings from the debris of the base," the human business mogul stated. "But if it turns out to be true then it's good news."

"Why?"

"Because it means we can focus on the leader. When the Reapers arrive we need only destroy the king and render his army useless," the Illusive Man expounded, almost excitedly. "Think of it like your own body. If I shoot you in the arm or leg you're still capable of fighting are you not? Well, if I put a bullet in your brain stem then what happens to the rest of your body?"

"It goes limp."

"Exactly. No more resistance. This can be the same," he expressed seriously. He lit another cigarette and took a generous cloud of smoke into his lungs.

"But that might not be the 'brain'. The first Reaper may act only as command and control. There's no guarantee that once it's immobilized or destroyed another Reaper won't step in to fill the hole it left," Shepard countered.

"You're right about that, Shepard. As I said, this is only a theory."

"An awfully optimistic one," the former Alliance officer complained.

"True enough, but it's a sensible one. We won't no more unless we can get our hands on more Reaper technology and analyze its cerebral functions," the business magnate observed. He sat back in his seat once more.

"Cerebral functions?"

"Yes, how it thinks. Are there multiple programs running in a single Reaper or is it one sole entity? What are its limitations, how much control does it have, can it be controlled like the Collectors, does it have free will or choice? These are all important to know in order to find out what we're dealing with," he stated confidently. His words were as smooth as the expensive liquor he often drank. He seemed to think that things would develop exactly as he planned. He was used to that in his life, always pulling strings and waving his hand behind the scenes to manipulate a given scenario the way he wanted. He had thought to do the same with Shepard, but the former Spectre surprised him by destroying the Collector Base.

"How do you plan on getting your hands on more Reaper technology?" Shepard asked doubtfully.

The Illusive Man took a long drag of his cigarette and held the smoke in for several moments. Calmly, he let the stuff escape from his nostrils. He licked his parched lips and tapped some of the ash from the cigarette. "I'm confident something will develop that's to our benefit," he said with a sly smirk. "In the meantime, you should strengthen your team. I've forwarded you a dossier on someone familiar. Should be an excellent addition to your team."

Shepard narrowed his eyes. A spark of curiosity illuminated in his irises. "Is that all?"

"One other thing. You may want to have a look down in the port side cargo hold. I've retrieved something from the debris of the Collector Base for you and left it there. Should be useful. You can thank me later." With the Illusive Man's final words the connection with the Quantum Entanglement system was cut and Shepard found himself abruptly back within the confines of the briefing room aboard the Normandy.

Left something in the cargo hold? When? Why? And what could it possibly be?

"Joker," Shepard spoke up after a moment.

"Yes, Commander?" his voice barked over the room's intercom.

"Were there any deliveries to the ship while we were on Omega?" he asked curiously.

"Yeah, uhm, that Cerberus lady met up with someone just outside the hatch and some of the crew brought something aboard. Looked sort of big," Joker exclaimed innocently.

"And you didn't tell me this because?" Shepard questioned with irritation.

"Uh, well," Joker thought for a second. "The Cerberus lady said she was going to tell you. My bad, Commander. I should have known better," Joker apologized.

"Very well. I'm heading down to find out what it is."

As Shepard exited the elevator on the engineering deck he was surprised to see the Cerberus Operative Olivia Knightley exiting the port side cargo hold. She was alarmed by the sudden appearance of the visibly agitated commanding officer.

"Shepard, surprising to see you below decks. When you get the chance I'd like to debrief you on your mission on Omega. I know you don't think much of our procedures, but the Illusive Man will want a more thorough after action report than what I sent earlier," Olivia began casually.

"Move," Shepard ordered sternly. Olivia let out a breath and considered disobeying the order. But then there wasn't any point to that and disobeying Shepard wouldn't endear her to him or the Illusive Man. So she grudgingly stepped aside.

The Commander entered the hold and glanced around. Aside from an assortment of storage containers and spare parts for the Kodiak and Hammerhead evenly stacked upon the immaculate steel grating there was only one object. It appeared to be a hermetically sealed container and was somewhat larger than the average height of a man. Several illuminated buttons and sensors were present on the it's outer wall, but Shepard could not visibly see within.

"What's inside there?" Shepard asked almost demandingly.

"A gift from the Illusive Man. I'm not actually certain myself. I was only told that you should be absolutely certain you want to activate… the operative that delivered it said it could be very dangerous. Other than that- well, you'll have to open it yourself," she exclaimed. She had to admit her own curiosity was piqued. But it wasn't the first time she'd signed for a mysterious container and was never allowed to see what was inside. It was the nature of her job with Cerberus; everything was compartmentalized and you only needed to know enough to get the job that pertained to you done. But now, seeing Shepard's own interest in the object, she began feeling inquisitive too.

"Very well then. I'm opening it," Shepard announced his intentions stepping forward. "EDI, before I do, can you give me any readings on what's inside?"

"There is no indication of life within the container, Shepard. However, it could be designed with sensor shielding in order to block any scans," EDI responded immediately.

"Why would anyone want to block sensors from reading life signs?" Shepard asked.

"Human traffickers often utilize cargo holds or small containers like this one to smuggle individuals or groups to and from locations. Passive and active scanners are utilized in order to prevent slavers or even personnel transporting illegal immigrants from one location to another. Blocking those scanners often helps the traffickers elude the authorities," EDI explained. "But it's an expensive process."

"Aren't your sensors better than what they use?" Shepard continued.

"Yes. But a sophisticated enough design can also block my scans as well."

Shepard ran his fingers along the exterior of the metallic container. It was cold to the touch and a faint hum resonated along its length. He pressed several of the buttons that indicated release of the lid. There was a hiss as some of the air within violently evacuated the confines of the container. A smell of rubber and burning electric wires wafted into Shepard's nostrils.

He removed the lid with little hesitation and gazed within. His eyes widened greatly, surprised by what the box contained.

"…How…?"


	11. Surprises

**Chapter Eleven: Surprises**

The SSV Salah ad-Din, a Systems Alliance Marine Assault Ship, cruised easily within the vast expanse of the Phoenix Massing Nebula- more specifically it was following a heading within the little-known Typhon system; headed for a tiny moon which orbited the hydrogen-helium gas giant Ponos.

The Assault Ship was a specialized transport vessel for the Systems Alliance military. It was not a warship- it was a troop transport craft. Most of the Assault Ships were smaller than frigates and operated only enough weapons for point defense against small ships. They were equipped with GARDIAN lasers and several mass accelerators on either flank of the hull, but no bow-gun; which meant it lacked any firepower strong enough to take on a warship. The real strength of the Assault Ship was its speed and its overall mission allowed for Marines to 'space-base'. This meant troops could be reacted to certain remote locations of space if a specific mission profile was met. This usually meant interdiction operations, counter-slaver operations, and emergency response to troubled colony worlds or disabled civilian spacecraft.

The principal crew aboard an Assault Ship were Marines; generally of platoon strength and commanded by a Marine Commander. The common Naval personnel contingent was usually only seven to ten people commanded by a Navy Lieutenant. Although the Marine Commander outranked the Lieutenant, the Navy officer was the senior officer in matters regarding normal flight and standard operating procedures. The Marine Commander would only take over during groundside operations or during an assault on a captured vessel or station.

Each Assault Ship was named after great military generals and warriors throughout Earth's history.

"I hope everyone had a chance to get some grub on the mess deck," a confident voice broke the idle chatter going on amongst the Marines in the Salah ad-Din's briefing room. The voice was lathered in a heavy Australian accent and belonged to an upstanding Marine Commander by the name of Thomas Wiley. "I'd tell you all it looks like a pretty standard op, but I don't think there is such a thing as a standard op."

His hair was brown, but cut very short on the sides in traditional Marine fashion. Strong brown eyes that carried a wealth of experience and knowledge deep within them studied his platoon of Marines. They were all professionals, each of them carrying the occupational code of N- Special Forces. While each man held a different proficiency rating (and none were N7s save for Commander Wiley himself) they were all talented and experienced troops. He had a strong jaw-line that tapered into a prominent chin that was always clean shaven. He carried the air of a no-nonsense officer and he was known as a man that often got to the point.

"With that being said I'll continue," the Australian officer pushed. "A human mining interest commissioned by Elfdell-Ashland was sent to this small ice moon in orbit around Ponos. They were there for just a short time before contact was lost. One burst transmission originated from the planet and was picked up and relayed by comm-buoys. That transmission contained only one word… 'Help'."

The other Marines adjusted themselves as silence filled the briefing room. This wasn't the first mission they'd undertaken that had begun with an ominous emergency transmission, but it never made things any easier. What was worse was that they generally knew what would follow- pirates, slavers, or mercenary bands.

"So our job is simple enough. We're taking the boat down to the surface and investigating the dig site and searching for any survivors. Are there any questions?" Commander Wiley glanced around the room and noticed as several hands raised.

"Sir, how many civvies on the deck?" a young Marine questioned.

"About fifty."

"What about security personnel? Anyone down there have weapons we should be aware of?" another asked.

"No. No security personnel whatsoever. This was a purely civilian operation," Commander Wiley explained. "While we're groundside if any civilians are found the primary collection point will be a designated area outside of the Salah ad-Din; you are not to bring anyone aboard the ship under any circumstances unless they've been thoroughly scanned for any infections, diseases, contaminates, or alien parasites. We're doing this by the book, people. You will follow standard operating procedures and all appropriate protocols."

Within the hour the SSV Salah ad-Din had begun it's descent onto the icy surface of an unnamed moon.

"Scanners aren't picking up any life signs, sir," a young service member told her commanding officer, Lieutenant Shinakawa.

"Any other ships besides the mining vessel?" Shinakawa asked. He was a young, inexperienced officer but had graduated from the Naval Academy and had enormous potential.

"Negative, sir. LADAR shows the mining ship, a few prefab structures and a drilling dozer," the crewwoman replied.

"Very well, take us in, Mr. West," Shinakawa told his helmsman.

"Aye, sir."

The boxy, rigid frame of the Salah ad-Din glided through the extremely light atmosphere of the moon and roared over several ridgelines as it finalized its descent. Gouts of snow and ice were blown clear of its landing sight as its mass effect field flared and the transport ship lowered itself into position upon the cold surface.

"Shinakawa, log all comm-traffic. I'm splitting the platoon in three; one team searches the prefabs and another searches the ship, the last team is with me," Commander Wiley exclaimed.

"Roger that, Commander," Shinakawa turned a keen eye on his communications officer who nodded in compliance and began recording all traffic for a descriptive mission transcription- useful for after action reports.

As these Marines were from 2nd Platoon, Alpha Company, 7th Marine Regiment, 1st Rapid Response Division- they would utilize specific call-signs. Alpha-2-Actual for Commander Wiley and his team, Alpha-2-Alpha for the first squad and Alpha-2-Bravo for the second squad.

Shinakawa watched as the Marines tactically spread out from the troop hatch of the Salah ad-Din. They spread out into specific formations and commenced their searches. They wore heavy armor; painted in a dull-gray hue with a digital camouflage pattern that created an assortment of small square and rectangular flecks of white and gray. The young Navy Lieutenant then turned to his communications station and listened in on all radio traffic.

_2-Actual: Maintain dispersion- stay alert but keep those fingers off the trigger. I don't want any of you blasting any civvies that might surprise you._

_2-Alpha: Roger._

_2-Bravo: Copy. Entering ship. _

_2-Actual: Watch your spacing, dig those corners. _

_2-Alpha: Checking buildings… no sign of life. _

_2-Bravo: Power's off in the ship. It's cold as fuck in here._

_2-Actual: Bravo, stow that chatter. Maintain proper radio procedures. _

_2-Bravo: Roger that. My bad, sir._

_2-Alpha: Still nothing. We're headed to the next building._

_2-Bravo: Crew quarters clear. Nobody made their beds this morning. _

_2-Actual: No crew?_

_2-Bravo: No, sir. Nothing. _

_2-Actual: Roger. Keep moving, keep me posted. _

_2-Alpha: It looks like… it looks like whoever was staying in this one didn't even finish their meal. I've still got food on the tables._

_2-Actual: Any sign of life?_

_2-Alpha: Negative. These look like they were designed to maintain atmosphere and oxygen inside, but my readings are showing none. Someone must have shut the systems down._

_2-Actual: Very well._

_2-Alpha: Moving on. _

_2-Bravo: Engineering deck is clear. Not a soul in sight. Fusion plant and mass effect drive have both been shut down. We're pushing._

_2-Alpha: Commander…_

_2-Actual: Send it, Alpha._

_2-Alpha: I've got some blood stains on the wall and floor in here. _

_2-Actual: Solid copy. 2-Bravo, be advised, Alpha has found blood stains in one of the prefab buildings. Stay frosty. Alpha, any bodies around?_

_2-Alpha: Negative. The stain… it's like a streak. Maybe someone was dragged toward the door, but it stops at the hatch._

_2-Bravo: Slavers? _

_2-Actual: Not sure. But I don't see any ice or snow cleared out from a ship landing out here. _

_2-Bravo: What the fuck is going on?_

_2-Actual: Bravo! _

_2-Bravo: Sorry._

_2-Alpha: 2-Actual we've completed our search of the prefab buildings. No sign of life, no documents or recordings that are giving us any information. It's like everybody just disappeared. _

_2-Actual: Roger that, 2-Alpha, gather up your people and reform on me out here. _

_2-Alpha: Good to go._

_2-Bravo: Med-lab, ship's head facilities and storage area clear, sir. Moving up to the bridge._

_2-Actual: Solid copy. Alpha, take a look around the outside area here. Let me know if you find anything._

_2-Alpha: Copy. _

_2-Bravo: Uh, sir…_

_2-Actual: Send it, Bravo._

_2-Bravo: Bridge is clear but uh… well we've found the station the emergency transmission was sent and uh…_

_2-Actual: Spit it out, Bravo!_

_2-Bravo: There's blood all over the console. Screen says 'Help' and there's blood on that too… whoever typed the message didn't live long after, not with this amount of blood. _

_2-Actual: Any scorch marks or signs of gunfire, Bravo?_

_2-Bravo: Negative, sir. Everything else looks pretty normal. _

_2-Actual: Roger, stand by I'm headed to your pos. _

_2-Alpha: Exterior of prefabs are clear. I'm going to have some guys check out that big drill thing. _

_2-Actual: Keep your team together Alpha. This is a LOT of blood in the bridge aboard the mining ship. Bravo and I are heading to your location._

_2-Alpha: Maybe some kind of alien monster got the crew? _

_2-Actual: It doesn't fit. We've dealt with that stuff before. Every time there's been an attack on colonists from local life forms they leave a mess. Just like if a lion attacked a bunch of campers back on Earth. There's no bodies, no body parts, just blood in two spots that leave no trace. _

_2-Alpha: What's the alternative then?_

_2-Actual: No idea. Where are you? _

_2-Alpha: Here, over by the drill. _

_2-Actual: Good. Okay, we've got eyes on you._

_2-Bravo: Sir, look at that. Big tunnel. Maybe that drill dug it. _

_2-Actual: Yeah, take a look. _

_2-Alpha: Nothing on the drill. Except the bit has been shredded. Weird. _

_2-Bravo: This is a long tunnel, sir. Can't see all the way down it._

_2-Actual: Standby. _

_2-Alpha: Damn. That is long. What do you suppose is down there? _

_2-Bravo: I don't want to know._

_2-Actual: Well we're going to find out. Head-lamps on, people. Shinakawa, my platoon is proceeding down a tunnel dug by the drilling team._

_CIC: Sounds good, Commander. Stay safe. _

_2-Actual: Will do. Let's move it, people. _

_2-Alpha: It's dark. _

_2-Bravo: Yeah well, we're in a hole in the ground._

_2-Actual: Keep quiet, gents. No traffic unless you have something pertinent to pass. _

_2-Bravo: What is that?_

_2-Alpha: Some sort of ruins or something? Uh, looks weird. _

_2-Actual: Move up. Take a look. _

_2-Alpha: Got it. _

_2-Bravo: Yeah… whatever it is… it's old. _

_2-Alpha: There's an interior, sir. Maybe the mining team is inside. _

_2-Actual: Yeah. All Marines, stay alert. This is some kind of alien design, we don't know what's inside. Stick together but maintain some dispersion, watch your corners and check your fire. Shinakawa, we've got some old building or something down here, we're checking inside. _

_CIC: Copy that, 2-Actual. Be careful. _

_2-Alpha: Dang, it's creepy as hell in here. _

_2-Bravo: It feels like the walls are pushing down on us. Like they might be alive or something…_

_2-Actual: Cut the chatter, gents! Alpha, you take your squad left, Bravo you and your squad are going right and I'll head down the center with my team. _

_2-Alpha: Yes, sir. _

_2-Bravo: Proceeding right. Advancing…_

_2-Alpha: I don't like this. We're hearing sounds._

_2-Actual: What sounds? _

_2-Alpha: Not sure, sir. It just… it… well- I don't know. _

_2-Bravo: Sir! I've got a body!_

_2-Actual: Roger that, what's the status._

_2-Bravo: Dead. Killed by some… thing. Shredded up pretty bad. I can't even tell if it's a guy or girl. _

_2-Alpha: Damn. _

_2-Actual: No identification?_

_2-Bravo: None. Just a bloody mess, some clumps of hair and the skeleton. _

_2-Alpha: Jesus. _

_2-Actual: All teams, keep moving. Remain calm, remain vigilant. _

_2-Alpha: More noises. It's the walls, they're creaking… or breathing or something! _

_2-Actual: Alpha, stay calm. What are you talking about?_

_2-Alpha: Sir, my people… we're hearing something. Voices… whispers… moaning… hey! Hey, Michaels what is that?_

_2-Actual: Alpha?_

_2-Alpha: Whoa, Jesus! Open fire! Shoot it! Shoot it! _

_2-Actual: Alpha, what the hell is going on!_

_2-Alpha: God damn, watch your fire! Left! LEFT! On the wall! Keep shooting. They're not going down. Watch out! _

_2-Actual: Alpha, what is your status?_

_2-Alpha: Taking… casualties. They're all over the place… coming out of the floor, out of the walls. Five of my people down. Jameson, King, get down! Ah, oh no, God they just dragged Singh away! Michaels take a team down that way and get Singh! _

_2-Actual: Alpha, belay that order! Do not separate your squad!_

_2-Alpha: Sir, I'm not leaving my man- they dragged him away. Let's move people… wait… what is that? What is THAT? Aggh…_

_2-Actual: Alpha report! Alpha! 2-Alpha this is 2-Actual report! 2-Bravo, this is Actual, see if you can get Alpha on the hook._

_2-Bravo: Roger. 2-Alpha, 2-Alpha, this is 2-Bravo, come in, over. 2-Alpha, this is 2-Bravo, do you read me, over? Sir, I can't raise him. _

_2-Actual: Bravo, head back to the entrance of this place. We're withdrawing._

_2-Bravo: What about Alpha?_

_2-Actual: We're pulling out and calling in reinforcements. We'll check this place out in force. Shinakawa, this is 2-Actual, do you copy me, over? I say again, this is 2-Actual, do you copy? Fuck. _

_2-Bravo: Uh, sir… entrance is…_

_2-Actual: Is what?_

_2-Bravo: Sealed, sir. _

_2-Actual: How?_

_2-Bravo: Don't know, sir. Wait… we hear something… footsteps… running… hey, hey, move to the side of the hall and get ready to fire… standby, 2-Actual. _

_2-Actual: What's going on, Bravo?_

_2-Bravo: Sir, we've got some survivors from 2-Alpha here._

_2-Actual: Good. What happened?_

_2-Bravo: There's only four of them… they're pretty shaken up. Said there were some weird things attacking them._

_2-Actual: Weird things?_

_2-Bravo: Like … Zombies or something? I don't know, sir. They're in shock. Said these moaning things came creeping up from the floor panels or charging down halls… and something about some other creatures… like uh, like an octopus with legs or some crazy shit._

_2-Actual: Are you sure they're the only people left?_

_2-Bravo: Sir, they said there might be some others, but they got dragged away by the octopus things… wait, standby. Kozlov, Ahmed, keep your eyes down that passageway! _

_2-Actual: Bravo, stay in position I'm headed your way._

_2-Bravo: What the hell? Shoot it! Kozlov, shoot that thing! Fire! _

_2-Actual: Damn it, Bravo! What's happening?_

_2-Bravo: Those things… they're here, they followed Alpha. What…? No, keep- keep shooting. Weapons are overheating… too many of those bastards. They're on the walls! Up! UP! No, no, watch behind you! They're behind us! _

_2-Actual: Bravo, hang on! I'm almost to your position. _

_2-Bravo: They're tearing us a part. Fuck! Get back. AHHHHH! _

_2-Actual: Bravo. Bravo? Bravo, report? Bravo! BRAVO REPORT! _


	12. Revival

**Chapter 12: Revival**

"EDI, what's it's status?" Shepard asked with keen interest. He stood hovering over the metallic cylinder he'd just opened; it was a 'gift' from the Illusive Man. It's contents had greatly surprised the former Spectre.

"The subject's condition appears to be nominal. I can detect no anomalies," EDI responded subordinately.

Olivia stepped forward to analyze the contents of the container. "Why would the Illusive Man send this to you?" she questioned vehemently, upset over the idea of it. Her hand reached in to touch what lay within, but stopped short- principally out of fear of the unknown.

"He said it would be useful and I agree," Shepard replied. He pressed his hands against the exterior of the object and leaned forward to examine the interior.

"But a geth? That's just irresponsible. Why would a geth be useful to us?" Olivia demanded. "They tried to wipe out all life along with Sovereign."

"Not this geth," Shepard told her. "EDI, what will it take to get him back online?" Shepard looked up as an afterthought, as if he were addressing the ship directly.

"If his chassis is transferred to the AI core he can be re-activated via the superconductor there- much like he was after recovering him from the derelict Reaper," EDI explained.

"Let's get it done then," Shepard ordered.

"Very well, Shepard," EDI complied.

Within a few minutes several crew members had entered the storage space and transported the humming cylinder to the AI core housed beyond the medical bay on the 2nd deck.

"You know this thing?" Olivia asked as her and Shepard traveled up to the crew deck within the elevator.

"Yes, he was part of my crew," Shepard commented, still surprised by the appearance of the geth platform he knew as Legion.

"How?" Olivia questioned disbelievingly.

"Not all the geth are the same. The ones that followed the Reapers were an opposing faction. He referred to them as heretics. They worshipped the Reapers and served Sovereign, but the other geth aren't like that," Shepard condensed all that Legion had told him.

"How do you know this?"

"It- he, told me."

"And you trust it? It could be lying just to get close to us, learn about the ship, about you and then at the opportune time betray us," Olivia expressed fervently. "You shouldn't trust a geth."

"Olivia, Legion helped me destroy the Collector base and the Reaper that was being built inside. He can be trusted," Shepard assured her.

"Legion? It has a name?" Her eyes were wide with continued disbelief. Shepard referred to a geth as a crewmember, as a 'he' as if it were just another life-form. But Olivia couldn't accept that, she knew the geth were responsible for Eden Prime and that they helped Saren in his entire plot to help the Reapers destroy all sapient life. Now one was a crew member; one that had just conveniently explained why some geth were helping the Reapers and why he wasn't one of them.

"I was responsible for the title the geth now possesses. 'My name is Legion, for we are many'," EDI's voice broke into the confines of the elevator and was almost boastful.

"Well, that's just great. An AI naming another AI. How wonderful," Olivia shook her head with disdain. "I don't like this, Shepard. It's a bad idea having that thing aboard the Normandy."

"It's my ship, Miss Knightely. I would tell you to take the issue up with the Illusive Man, but it's fairly obvious where he stands on the matter," Shepard uttered sharply.

"Fine, just don't expect me to do anything when he goes berserk and attacks us," Olivia warned as the duo stepped out of the elevator. They rounded the corner and passed the mess area where several of the crew sat chatting idly. "Anyways, enjoy toying with your little plaything; I have reports to write." The two parted ways and Shepard just shook her head as she left.

Legion's limp body lay flat on the surface of a dais to the rear of the AI core. Shepard's body felt the chilly air as he entered. The room was kept at very low temperatures, around twelve degrees Celsius in order for all of EDI's systems to operate proficiently. Goose bumps formed and his arm hair raised as he approached the idle geth.

"Can you activate him?" Shepard asked.

"Yes. I was awaiting the order," EDI explained.

"Okay. Do it."

The lights within the AI core dimmed momentarily and a deep drone began to resonate from the dais that the deactivated geth was laying on. Shepard watched with keen interest as the limp form suddenly came to life and twitched violently for a few moments. The lights in the room pulsed in intermittent spurts and then the small lamp upon the geth's head illuminated.

Legion, a geth platform with 1,183 active geth programs rose from his prostrate position on the dais. His arm, a patchwork of field repairs including a piece of N7 armor, reached up and removed several electrical conduits that had been plugged into his physical form. He rose to his feet and his flashlight head mechanically looked over in Shepard's direction- twitching slightly as it did.

"Shepard-Commander," he greeted.

"Legion," Shepard nodded. Inwardly he felt a degree of elation over Legion's 'survival'. He still had a hard time of considering the geth construct in the same manner as other members of his crew. Still, it was a wonderful sight to see another survivor from the suicide mission. But curiosity ravaged his mind; how had the geth survived? "It's good to see you."

The geth head jerked a bit and the squeaking chirps common to the geth language purveyed throughout the room. "Our system files are incomplete. Shepard-Commander, what is the status of our mission?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Shepard asked with keen interest, folding his arms across his chest.

"We remember the destruction of the Reaper Larvae. An explosion, falling and that is all," Legion replied without hesitation.

"We destroyed the base and the Reaper inside it. After the fall I found you under a heap of debris, but you weren't responding. I thought you were dead," Shepard admitted, almost ashamedly.

"It is not a problem," Legion stated.

"What do you mean?"

"Our systems are designed in a specific manner, Shepard-Commander. When neurological functions are disrupted by a great enough shock to the platform's hardware our systems shut down in order to conserve processing power and perform basic repairs to our run times. To you, we would be dead, limp, and unresponsive," Legion began explaining in his mechanical tone. "You are trained to look for a rise and fall of the chest cavity, listen for difficulty with breathing, and feel for air exiting the oral portion of a subject's facial construct. None of this is possible with a synthetic platform. Your assessment of our condition was based on the reactive nature of our hardware, which had gone limp; therefore, your assessment was correct in assuming we were unserviceable."

"…Okay," Shepard shook his head and cracked a grin. Unserviceable? As if Legion were just a piece of military hardware. "But how did you survive the explosion? I blew that station to hell."

"We are built of resilient materials," Legion affirmed. He raised a three-fingered synthetic hand as if to display it to Commander Shepard. "Our combat chassis is constructed of high tensile strength carbon-palladium composites."

"But your… body had to be blown out into space even if you survived the blast," Shepard retorted.

"We are not a carbon-based life form. We do not require oxygen and are unaffected by the vacuum of space. However, there is a preferred temperature for optimal operating conditions and space is not conducive to an optimal working environment," Legion explained.

Shepard shook his head. "I'm just amazed you're still here," he answered.

"What is the condition of the rest of your crew, Shepard-Commander?" Legion asked then.

"The crew?" Shepard's eyes grew solemn and he paused, looking down at the stainless grating of the AI core. "They didn't make it. Just you, me, and Garrus."

The geth paused, the sounds of it's own language permeated the cool air within the room for a moment as if it were processing what it would say. "We are… sorry."

"You're sorry? I didn't think geth had feelings," Shepard said back in slight surprise.

"We do not."

"So you're not actually sorry?"

"No."

"So why say it then?" Shepard questioned, more out of curiosity.

Legion's head twitched once more and the curdling sounds of its language resonated from within its chest cavity once again. "We are aware of human emotional attachments to fellow organic platforms. It is customary for organics to mourn the loss of fellow platforms," he began explaining mechanically. "In an attempt to solidify unit cohesion aboard the Normandy we hope to convey sentiment via auditory means so that Shepard-Commander considers us an integral member of the crew. It is not our intent to deceive. We are merely attempting to follow standard organic protocol."

"You just want to fit in?" Shepard queried.

"What does fit in?" Legion asked in response.

"You know, feel like one of the crew," Shepard replied with a wave of the hand.

"We are under the impression we are a part of the crew. Was this an incorrect conclusion?"

"No, no you are a part of this crew. What I meant was you just want to feel more like an organic," Shepard corrected himself so the geth could better understand.

"No. We are not organic. We are synthetic," Legion stated absolutely.

"Yes, I know, but by attempting to fit in you're trying to be more like an organic. You know- by expressing basic human emotions like remorse over the loss of the crew," Shepard tried to clarify.

"No. We can never be more like organics. We do not feel, we only analyze and respond," Legion declared.

"But you said you're sorry so you could convey emotion, even if it's fake, in order to integrate more fully with the crew and with me I assume," Shepard tried to understand.

"Correct. But we are not organic, nor are we attempting to be more like organics. Our hardware and software would not support it," Legion affirmed seriously.

"I know that!" Shepard shook his head. He was slightly irritated by the literal manner that the geth took everything, but his face took on a look of bemusement. "You're too literal sometimes."

"We're sorry."

"Are you, though?"

"No."

"So why say it?"

"We thought it was what you wanted to hear. We do not fully understand organics. Your neurological processes are not rational. We have not formed a full consensus on how best to interact with your platform," Legion exclaimed in his robotic tone.

Shepard's hardened face broke into a smirk. It was actually amusing interacting with Legion. Because of how serious the geth took everything it was almost like talking to a highly-intelligent, hyper-rational genius suffering from Asperger's syndrome.

He whirled around by the sound of the automatic doors sliding open; someone else had entered the AI core.

The distinctive silhouette of a quarian stood hovering in the light which filtered in from the Med-Bay. It was obviously Kal'Reegar, the only quarian aboard the ship. His arms hung loosely at his side but Shepard noticed a certain emotion in his gait as he stepped inside of the room. He seemed determined, angry almost.

"So it's true," Reegar accused as he got closer to Shepard and laid his shimmering eyes on the geth construct opposite the Commander. "We're working with geth now, Shepard?" His tone was intimidating and Shepard watched as the mask of his exo-suit rose and fell as the Marine studied a possible threat.

"Reegar, this is the geth I told you about," Shepard said uneasily. He stepped between the two. He knew Legion would not act out, he hadn't before when being confronted by Tali. But Reegar had lost many friends and comrades fighting the geth. Of course it had been fighting the Heretics, not the main faction of geth that Legion hailed from, but Shepard wasn't sure if that was something Reegar would ever accept.

"What, the good guy geth?" Kal'Reegar retorted mockingly. He crossed his arms and canted his head.

"Yes. He worked with us before- against the Collectors. He helped us, helped Tali," Shepard expressed with gravitas. This situation was potentially very volatile and he didn't want to see it escalate any further. While Legion would not cast the first stone, he would certainly defend himself if attacked.

"Yeah and his kind also killed my people and took our home world from us," Reegar stepped forward, he advanced toward the geth platform until Shepard pressed against him, his shoulder blocking the quarian's path.

"In fairness, the Creators were attempting to enslave the geth," Legion sputtered. "The geth believe all sapient life have the right to self determinate. The Creators did not agree."

"Sapient life? You're just a damn toaster that can talk," Reegar insulted the geth.

"Incorrect. We are synthetic, sentient life. We are capable of learning and creating; we are a culture like any other. Different, yes, but a culture all the same," Legion explained in a monotone manner. The plates along his head flexed as he spoke.

"Culture? Culture means more than being alive. It means art, it means family," Reegar pressed, stepping back from his close proximity to Commander Shepard. He never cared much for art and aside from his sister he didn't have much family, but those were important facets of quarian culture and something he believed were foreign to the geth entirely. Although he wasn't certain what he was trying to achieve by getting into an argument with a geth. It would be much easier to blast a hole in its chest.

"Geth have art," Legion replied, his head contorted and twitched intermittently.

"What art?"

"We create new technologies, new platforms, new life. Art."

"That doesn't-"

"Enough," Shepard broke the argument between the two. This was becoming an additional duty for him- keeping the peace. "Reegar, I have to know if this is going to affect your loyalty or not. Are you still with me, are you still a part of this team?"

The quarian stood in silence. His dimly lit eyes, only partially visible through his clouded mask, stared at Legion with a diminished hatred. The geth had caused so much pain and suffering to the quarian people. Growing up on the Migrant Fleet was an ordeal, not a life. Reegar had hated his suit, yearned to be free to roam the home world without a suit ruining his sense of touch or smell. He had always wondered about the geth; thought about if there were different kinds and had sometimes embraced the idea that peace could be brokered with them. But now, just like before when he confronted his sister, he had a hard time accepting the idea. That ever-constant, searing hatred boiled up from the pit of his stomach. Visions of dead friends and comrades, scorched and burned by the super-heated plasma rounds of the geth firearms left him gritting his teeth and thirsty for vengeance.

He let out a sigh and turned his gaze from the geth toward his commanding officer. "I'm with you, Shepard." He said no more. He turned from the pair he'd addressed and left the AI Core without so much as a backward glance.

Shepard watched him leave and then bid goodbye to Legion and also exited the AI Core and subsequently the Med-Bay. He was intercepted by Olivia just beyond the hatch that led to the mess deck where several crew members sat eating chow and discussing work or personal lives.

"Did you have a chance to see the dossier the Illusive Man forwarded?" she questioned. A data-pad was clenched in her hands.

"No."

"Have a look," she handed him the pad.

His eyes ran over the dossier, he didn't need to read the information. All he needed to see was the name. "He'll never do it."

"Why not? You worked with him before. It's logical to assume he'd join up with you again," Olivia countered.

"Things are different now. Different for him. He's got bigger things on his plate," Shepard argued, although he'd wished he was wrong.

"Bigger things than stopping the Reapers?"

"In his mind, yes," Shepard told her.

"Well, we should try anyways. Maybe if you explain it to him, maybe if he sees how serious you are then he'll change his mind. I don't like their kind much, too violent, too overzealous but from these reports he's quite the asset… we need him and you know it," Olivia expressed resolutely. She took a step back to allow the Commander to think, placing a lithesome hand upon her hip and expectantly awaiting his response. Her calculating green eyes studied his movements.

Shepard let out a sigh. He flexed his brows and shook his head. They did need him, he would indeed be an outstanding asset and he was a friend. But Shepard just wasn't sure he could convince him. "You're right."

"I know," Olivia smiled.

"Joker, set a course for Tuchanka."


	13. Familiar Faces

**Chapter Thirteen: Familiar Faces**

Tuchanka, a war-ravaged world dominated by monstrous bipedal, lizard-like creatures called krogans. Their tribal society put a premium on killing and their history was riddled with great wars between different clans and factions. Beyond their industrial age their bellicose nature had led to a massive war which, after splitting the atom, led to the krogans nuking their civilization into the stone-age. Now, as a result of that destruction, Tuchanka's cities were crumbling ruins unfit to house any life forms, let alone the warring clans that had once called them home.

From the interior cabin of the Kodiak shuttle Shepard could see the destruction the krogans had wrought upon themselves. He wondered what sort of culture the krogan had possessed before their atomic war. It had to be more productive than they were now; how else could they have built such cities to begin with? But now, ever since the genophage, the krogans had resigned themselves to a slow extinction. While the disease didn't make every krogan female sterile, it only allowed for one in every thousand birth to be viable. Given this condition, the krogan allowed themselves to become overcome by the state of their race and their fatalistic tendencies were only making matters worse. Their entire lives revolved around killing, needless, constant killing all in the name of honor and strength. Shepard didn't understand it, most aliens didn't, but there were some krogan who saw beyond the barrel of their gun; one in particular whom Shepard now sought.

The Kodiak drop ship soared effortlessly over the wind-swept ruins of Tuchanka's once great cities. An eerie brown-yellow hue was cast over the entire area, leaving a sense of imminent doom. Indeed, Shepard could never live here; prolonged radiation exposure would kill any human if they remained on the planet's surface long enough. But he had no intention of staying on the hostile planet for long.

The Kodiak maneuvered itself into a gigantic hatch which opened up into a great bunker and tunnel system beneath the ruins of the destroyed city. Much like a manhole, it was capped by a hefty, bomb-resistant door that was controlled by a hydraulic arm and locking mechanism.

Once the small craft was on the deck Shepard, Garrus, and Olivia dismounted. They were greeted by a group of hostile krogan, all clad in heavy combat armor and pointing a dizzying array of different weapons at them.

"Stop right there, human!" one krogan growled, stepping forward of the line of defenders arrayed against Shepard and his team. "There are no off-worlders allowed on Tuchanka."

"Easy now," Shepard began. He and his team threw their hands up in the air upon order from the krogans.

"You always illicit the warmest welcomes, Shepard," Garrus noted with sarcasm.

"What is your business on Tuchanka, human?" the krogan demanded impatiently. "Speak quickly or I'll be bathing in your blood."

"I've got business with your clan leader," Shepard told him.

"No one speaks to the clan leader!" the krogan snapped. His face was even more menacing now. "Board your ship and leave this place before I cut out your heart!"

Shepard looked to his team with an ominous glint in his eyes. What could they do? There were only three of them; he hadn't expected to be greeted by such a hostile welcoming committee. Reluctantly he took a step back toward the Kodiak; he would have to find another way.

"Wait!" the voice of another krogan called out. "These aliens are okay." A hulking krogan that Shepard recognized pushed through the crowd of guards whose weapons were trained on Shepard's team. It was the Urdnot Scout Captain who had helped Shepard and Mordin find the salarian scientist's protégé Maelon when he had been working for clan Weyrloc.

Shepard and the others dropped their hands just as the Scout Captain, known as Tusk, stepped before them. "Why do you seek the clan leader, Shepard?" he questioned reasonably.

"I need to speak with him concerning my mission," Shepard said, evading any descriptive information.

"Well, I'm afraid he isn't here to speak with anymore," Tusk informed the human Commander.

"Why? What happened?"

"Come with me." Tusk turned and pushed his way through the aligned guards, shoving one that failed to make a hole for his passing fast enough with particular force. Shepard, Olivia and Garrus followed.

The Scout Captain led Shepard and his cohorts down a crumbling staircase and into a dilapidated tunnel system that felt as though it would cave in at any moment. Chips of concrete, dirt, dust and other debris dropped down upon their uncovered heads. Olivia was awestruck by the sights and sounds around her. She'd never seen Tuchanka, only read about it in Alliance intelligence reports and scholarly reading that analyzed krogan culture and society. She never much cared for the lizards and she certainly didn't respect them or their ways. To her they were barbaric beasts, too stupid to realize the folly of their ways. For all their great abilities adapting to the hostile environment of any world they were foolish when it came to dealing with one another. A krogan had no understanding of the words interpersonal relationships.

"So, what can you tell me?" Shepard questioned Tusk as he advanced behind the lumbering brute.

"For the last several weeks Clan Urdnot has been in some heavy fighting with Clan Garadok and Clan Ulrog; they're basically the biggest competition we have these days," the Scout Captain began to explain without bothering to look back at the human he addressed. "Well, the fighting has cost a lot of lives on both sides, so the leaders of the clans suggested meeting for a crush."

"A what?" Olivia broke in.

"A crush, a meeting for peace," Tusk explained patiently, although inwardly he was perturbed by the human's question. "Trouble was that Clan Ulrog and Garadok were planning on betraying us. They teamed up just for a better shot at taking down Clan Urdnot."

"Typical, treacherous krogan," Olivia added. "It's a wonder there are any of you left."

"Does she have an off button, Shepard, or do I have to pull her cord myself?" Tusk questioned menacingly. Olivia took the hint, although noted the hostile nature of the beast.

"Wrex couldn't have believed Garadok and Ulrog would be honorable about this, it's not the first time someone has betrayed him under the guise of peace," Shepard offered.

"Yeah, you're right. He went into the meeting with some warriors and so did the other clans. A big fight broke out inside and Urdnot forces were attacked simultaneously by both clans. They cut us off and were sending reinforcements to the location of the crush," Tusk continued. The group reached the end of the hall and climbed a steep incline of rubble and debris which opened up into an expansive bunker which appeared to be in shambles and had certainly seen its fair share of conflict.

"Where was the crush held?"

"In an old bomb shelter a few miles from here; one tunnel in, one tunnel out. Fortunately, Wrex was able to destroy the tunnel entrance before the others reinforcements arrived. But now they've got us pushed back and are digging their way in to finish him off," Tusk detailed, he flared his nostrils in anger. "Bastards are going to pay."

"How do we know Wrex is even still alive?" Garrus asked suddenly.

"C'mon, Garrus," Shepard glanced over at the turian. "It's Wrex."

"Right. Stupid question," Garrus admitted, shaking his head.

"So as important as your conversation about your mission is, we've got more important things to deal with," Tusk pressed on, speaking over the two comrades.

"So what if we help you break through?" Shepard offered.

"Why would you do that?" Tusk asked incredulously.

"Wrex is an old friend. I'd never leave him to die," Shepard avowed seriously.

"Normally I'd tell you no, we don't need the help of aliens. But to be honest, we've been soaking up a lot of casualties and the damn bastards are dug in defending the tunnel entrance while they have vorcha dig out the rubble. They've killed or wounded over a dozen of our warriors and even disabled a damn Tonka," Tusk grimaced, and then spat on the rocky surface below his hefty feet.

"What's their disposition?" Shepard asked interestedly.

"They've got about two dozen warriors, maybe more, all dug in outside the tunnel. A few automated defense cannons and all those little scamps," he referred to the vorcha. "It wouldn't be so hard to kill them, we've got more troops than they do, but they're dug in deep."

"I can bring more help from my ship. If we press them hard enough they'll fold," Shepard said confidently.

"Haha, I like your attitude, human," Tusk proclaimed jubilantly.

"Give me some time to prepare. I'll organize my team," Shepard told him resolutely.

"All right, when you're ready you can take that Tonka to the release point. The location is already programmed in. We'll be waiting for you."

"Yup, Scout Captain was right. I count at least thirty krogan and just as many vorcha," Kal'Reegar confirmed through a set of laser-range finding binoculars what Tusk had stated earlier. The quarian Marine stood atop a small ridgeline, what was once a building but had now collapsed into a mound of rubble. Shepard and the rest of the team were arrayed behind him.

"What's our best option?" Shepard questioned. He trusted the tactical abilities of Kal'Reegar; he was an experienced operator and had survived dozens of tough scrapes.

"You said that tunnel is the only way to get to your friend?" Reegar asked. Shepard nodded. "Frontal assault looks like the only option. They've settled in a perimeter that fans out from either side of the tunnel entrance."

Olivia interrupted. "How can we assault a bunch of krogan head on?"

"Best option is to supplement Clan Urdnot's numbers. We attack along with them, hopefully with our skills we can tip the balance," Shepard stated.

"It wouldn't hurt to mobilize all of their wheeled-assets, either. A few of those Tonka heavy cannons should really help lay down suppressive fire," Kal'Reegar observed, looking down from his perch upon the rubble to the assembly area where a host of Clan Urdnot warriors gathered, flanked by several large, six-wheeled armored vehicles.

"I'll talk with Tusk," Shepard announced. He lowered himself from the lofty position atop the rubble and jogged down to meet with the Scout Captain who was busy barking orders at several other clan members.

"Shepard, is your team ready?" Tusk asked impatiently.

"What's your plan?" Shepard queried.

"Plan? We fight in the same way, the bloodiest way!" Tusk proclaimed proudly. "We'll hit them head on with all our force… again."

"Doesn't seem like there's really any other option," Shepard noted, crossing his arms and glancing around at the other krogan, who seemed anxious for a fight.

"No, not really. That's why we've taken so many casualties," Tusk admitted.

"Listen, use those Tonkas and push hard. Hopefully with my people helping out we can turn the tide," Shepard hoped aloud. He raised a brow, examining the sturdiness of the armored vehicles.

"Fine, not that I'm not thankful for your help," Tusk began sarcastically. "But why do you suppose we can win just because you and your squishy friends are helping?"

"We've done some amazing things, I guess," Shepard responded, scratching the back of his head.

"So have I. Once, I killed four turians in a single fight with only a knife," Tusk boasted.

Shepard's brow furrowed. "That's… good? Although not exactly what I meant. What I mean to say is, we have more specialists…"

"Good enough for me. Just leave some of those scum for me to gut and don't get in my way and we should be fine," Tusk claimed with a hearty laugh. "By the way, is that a geth you have up there?" Tusk motioned back to the rubble where Legion stood beside Garrus. His jerky movements were noticeable, even from this distance and the light upon his head shined brightly, betraying what race he was.

"Uh… yes," Shepard answered hesitantly.

"How'd you get him? You re-program him or something?" Tusk scratched his considerable chin in thought.

"It's a long story."

"All right, fine, just make sure he shoots the right krogans," Tusk didn't press the issue. He didn't really care after all. He was only curious.

"Fair enough."

Shepard clamored back up the rubble pile to rejoin his team. Legion approached him as soon as he arrived.

"Shepard-Commander," he began automatically. "We have concluded that the automated defense turrets the krogan are utilizing can be remotely hacked via our omni-tool. All that is required is that you disable their exterior shields and we can assume control."

Shepard narrowed his eyes. His fingers reached up and prodded at his chin. He glanced over in the direction of the tunnel and squinted, straining his eyes to see the defenses. There were four turrets and if Legion was able to hack any of them it would add weight to their own attack and it certainly would surprise the krogan defenders.

"They won't expect that," Olivia said. "There aren't any krogan out there that are smart enough with tech to hack those things. I'm willing to bet they'll be pretty startled by our appearance on the battlefield."

"Have you ever fought a krogan?" Aria T'Loak asked with vehemence. She looked over at the young human woman and sneered.

"No, I haven't. But I'm aware of their operational weak points and the common tactical mistakes they make," Olivia responded with equal vigor. She wasn't about to be bullied by the asari, even if she was a much more powerful biotic.

"It's not going to be easy," Shepard intervened, cutting off their argument before it could rise in intensity.

"No, it won't be," Aria agreed. She looked away from Shepard and the small human girl whose apparent confidence aggravated her. What did that human know? She'd never faced a single damn krogan, but was nonchalant about the entire thing? It was infuriating. If there was one thing Aria had learned in her sordid past it was to respect krogan battle prowess. "Who is this krogan Battle-Master we're rescuing anyways, Shepard?"

"Just an old friend," Shepard said, his attention was torn away as he observed some of Clan Urdnots warriors begin their advance. It was a vanguard unit, sent ahead of the main force to probe the enemy's defenses and search for a weakness. Within short order the defense turrets began to engage them, lobbing heavy slugs in the direction of the advancing Urdnot warriors.

Tracer fire from the many small-arms the defenders possessed began to streak beyond the advancing vanguard. Some of them stumbled under the heavy fire, then took cover and began to return fire. Shepard's assumption was wrong, they weren't a probing force; that was too delicate for krogan, and it was merely a slight distraction. A large Urdnot contingent suddenly erupted from several bombed out buildings to the west of the tunnel entrance. They were able to gain a lot of ground before the defenders noticed them coming, but they too, were quickly pinned down by the heavy fire raining down upon them from the automated turrets.

The ground began to rumble and the sounds of heavy diesel engines started to roar above the din of the gunfire. From below the ridgeline which Shepard and his people were perched four Tonkas rolled out to join the fray. Their heavy turrets rotated to take aim upon the enemy's position and began firing. Heavy, super-heated, mass-accelerated slugs seared through the heavy wind and crashed into the defensive positions of Clan Garadok and Ulrog.

Seeing this, the automated cannons acquired the new targets, seeing them as the greatest threat. Heavy thuds erupted from their gaping maws and their rounds ripped through the air in answer to the Tonkas opening gambit.

The lead Tonka's kinetic barrier flared as several projectiles struck it. The driver tried desperately to avoid the oncoming salvo of gunfire, but in his haste he jammed the vehicle into a crater and was having trouble getting it out. As the engine whined more rounds slapped against the side of the armored vehicle. It wouldn't be long before the kinetic barriers failed.

In a surprising move, the other Tonkas advanced to support their troubled comrade, an action that surprised Shepard- for he figured most krogan cared little for their peers and only pressed on for glory and the bloodlust.

Small gouts of dirt and rubble sprang into the air, accompanied by smaller puffs from small-arms fire. The full force of Clan Urdnot was now progressing toward the well-defended tunnel. But they were taking casualties. Shepard could see Tusk pushing forward within the fray, willing his fellow krogan to greater heights of bravery or sacrifice.

"All right, people," Shepard's face hardened with determination as he stared down at the battlefield. "Let's do our part and crack this thing wide open!"

**A/N: If you like where I'm taking things let me know! I haven't received much in the way of feedback, so I don't know if this is entertaining or not haha. So, critiques, opinions, etc. are all much appreciated. If you like where I'm taking things, or have a comment on how I portray certain characters I would love to hear it. Oh and thanks for reading. **


	14. Breaking Through

**Chapter Fourteen: Breaking Through**

Shepard felt every tiny pebble beneath his heavy boots as they were crushed from the weight of his armored figure. He plodded forward, his legs churning in the debris-strewn field that lay between the krogan's defensive positions and the ridgeline he and his team had started from.

A cavalcade of gunfire streaked past him and he could hear the snap and crack as each mass-accelerated grain whipped by his head, missing him by only inches. Sweat glistened on the warrior's face and grim determination had replaced the stoic visage of a confident leader- the man that had launched his fellows into this ferocious attack.

Kal'Reegar, faithful and resolute, knelt beside the Normandy's Commander. His knee was firmly planted in the ground and he had lowered his exo-suit clad figure below a hefty chunk of what used to be a concrete building. On occasion he'd expose himself over the top of the cover and fire a stream of gunfire towards the krogan assailing them.

Aria T'Loak was there too, leaning against the same piece of cover with her teeth grit and a feeling of intense impatience rising from her beating heart. She held her Tempest submachine gun tightly in her grip, anxious to use it against the krogan. She may have respected their prowess, but being shot at was a quick way to make her angry. There were lingering doubts in her mind as well. Had following Shepard been the right decision? She looked at him now as he studied the krogan defenses. He calmly peaked over the barricade of concrete and twisted steel that protected him from the Clan's attempts to kill him. His steely blue eyes studied them, probing for an opportunity to attack. Aria knew he was an upstanding man of morals, but in those cold, soldierly eyes she saw a killer. A man out for blood and determined to see it spilt if you prevented him from accomplishing what he set out to do. She admired that, respected it even.

Occasionally a heavy boom would echo over the battlefield, drowning out the cacophony of assault rifles trading fire with one another. It was Garrus, steadfast and deadly accurate from his sniper's perch in a bombed out building with good coverage of the entire area. Patiently he scanned the scene with the scope of his Mantis rifle. He watched as the krogan from Clans Garadok and Ulrog exchanged gunfire with Urdnot's warriors. He was patient, he waited until the krogan he was allied to had withered down the enemies' shields and then with careful, trained hands he let a round loose. But the krogan were nothing if not resilient and a single round from his rifle was never enough. Fortunately they reeled back from the impact of his initial shot giving him ample time to load another heat cartridge and fire once more. Some krogan took as many as four shots, but he'd taken the lives of five so far and continued with due diligence.

To the far left of the battlefield, an approximate distance of one hundred and fifty meters from Shepard and his team, Olivia and Legion crept along the ground. They hugged the earth, hoping to avoid any errant round and be incapacitated or killed. The two had advanced rapidly toward their objective, getting close to the defense turrets so Legion could hack them, but the Garadok troops had finally seen them and turned their onslaught of fire upon them. Legion's kinetic barriers had swelled from the impacts before he splayed out along the ground. Olivia had followed suit, her heart pounding in her ear drums from the litany of terrifying sounds that arced over her head or pounded into the rubble strewn about around her. She was horrified by the idea of a bloody death, especially on such a dismal world as Tuchanka. Nevertheless, she found herself plodding forward. She reached out with one hand and dragged her body forward, then reached forward with the next and repeated the process. It was grueling, and she choked on the sand and dust that rose with every impact from incoming fire. Yet she soldiered on, inspired to succeed and prove her place among the crew.

Ahead of Shepard a line of Urdnot warriors had been halted. They slugged it out with the Garadok and Ulrog boys, but were taking casualties. The heavy power of the automated defense cannons was wreaking a heavy toll upon them. Some clawed into the sand trying to seek cover while others still roared in defiance and let lose a salvo of their own accurate fire. Tusk was amongst them; calmly he strode from cover to cover instilling a renewed sense of motivation in the pinned Urdnot warriors. It was amazing how no round seemed able to fell him.

Shepard watched as one young warrior rose from behind his defensive position, let out an enormous bellow and charged forward like an angry rhino- consumed by the krogan blood rage. All of the defenders turned their attention to him and opened fire. It took only a few seconds for his kinetic barriers to wither away. His brutish figure was riddled with gunfire, yet his stubborn spirit carried him forward. Blood ran freely from his many wounds and out of his snarling maw. He fired only a handful of rounds, with little effect, before succumbing to his wounds and dropping dead roughly half way to the defensive barriers. A cloud of dust from an errant gust of wind blew past his remains and dissipated just as the gunfire heightened.

Shepard's jaw flexed. He hated the sight. Krogan were brave, but to a point of stupidity at times. That was the case now; it had been a valiant charge, but ultimately a pointless one and life being thrown away in such a manner always troubled the seasoned soldier. He rose to a modified crouching position, his weapon held tightly in his gloved hands. He gave Kal'Reegar and Aria a knowing nod and then broke for the line of Urdnot soldiers.

Garrus saw his Commander make a move and instinctively knew that he must cover him. He picked targets that seemed interested in the human who now advanced freely across the open-ground, steadied his breathing and pulled the trigger. This would be the first day in many years that the krogan would need to fear a turian again.

Reegar loosed two wire-guided rockets from his ML-77 rocket launcher, intent on assisting Shepard and covering his and Aria's own advance. The rockets stretched out across the field, blazing past the sprinting N7 operator leaving a trail of exhaust in their wake. They arced to the left and rose high into the air before coming down with a heavy impact in the center of a cluster of krogan.

Aria was fast on her feet, much more so than the quarian she dashed beside. She would have overtaken Shepard as well, if he hadn't had such a head start. She threw up a biotic barrier just in time to defend herself from an onslaught of rounds aimed at her and the Marine. The krogan were angry over Kal'Reegar's two rockets and sought to punish the people responsible. She could feel each round impact upon the barrier which protected her. It was like being behind an invisible wall and pushing against the barbaric strength of some great beast each time a round made contact. Many people could only handle a few bursts of fire before being overwhelmed, but Aria was strong. She drew power from inside, let out a growl and pressed on, much to the chagrin of the Ulrog troops trying to kill her. She made it to cover and dove down beside a wounded krogan who looked at her with abject astonishment.

Reegar may not have been so lucky, but the Tonkas rolled forward to save the day. They pressed on, the cannons mounted upon their rooftops blazing away with determination. One exploded in a spectacular display, sending hot metallic shrapnel in every direction. Shepard watched as a burning tire rolled by, finally coming to a rest a few meters ahead of him. He looked to Tusk, who was still trying to angrily rally his men for another charge, something Shepard didn't want to see.

"Tusk!" he called out over the heavy gunfire. "Tusk!"

The krogan heard him and turned to approach. A blast of rounds slammed into his form, his shield rippled and a shot made it beyond the barrier, striking his arm. More rounds were inbound, but the krogan Scout Captain was shoved aside by Kal'Reegar who had finally arrived on the scene. His momentum was such that he was unable to stop his own forward movement; he stumbled forward and tripped upon a piece of debris. He crash into the ground face first with such a great force that the impact cracked the mask on his exo-suit's helmet.

"Reegar!" Shepard shouted as he came to his aide. The quarian pushed himself up against a collapsed wall and readied his assault rifle just as Shepard arrived.

"I'm fine, Commander," he assured the human. "It happens more often than I'd like to admit."

Shepard gave a wry grin and shook his head. Tough bastard.

He looked over to see Tusk pressing his scaly fingertips into his wound. The krogan looked at his blood and sneered. "Tusk, get those Tonkas to focus their firepower on the defense turrets. If you can get their shields dropped then we can hack the turrets and turn them against the defenders!" he shouted.

Tusks lizard-like lips curled scornfully, but he nodded his head.

As ordered, the Tonkas turned their full weight of firepower into the defensive turrets. It took only a few moments for the shields of the first to drop and they immediately turned their attention to the next.

"Legion, do you read me?" Shepard yelled into his headset.

"Affirmative."

"Do you see the first turret? Its shields are down, hack it!" Shepard ordered.

Legion went to work quickly, he pushed himself over onto his back and the orange glow of his omni-tool illuminated along his forearm. Tracers from rounds being fire still raced overhead and Olivia had given up advancing any further. Legion grunted as he quickly ran through his hacking procedures. It didn't take long; the turret he had targeted was now under his control.

Shepard watched with elation as the turret ceased firing at the Tonkas and swiveled to the right. It began engaging the krogan that stood just in front of it, with their backs exposed. Puffs of smoke and dirt rose from behind the barriers as the turret impacted, blowing a part several Garadok and Ulrog warriors and casting their limbs in several directions.

"Ah-ha!" Tusk cried out at the sight. His eyes were wide with happiness. "Let's go, you dogs!" The Urdnot warriors rushed forward just as Legion took control of the second turret and began to decimate the defender's ranks.

The blast wave from an exploding Tonka startled the soldier as he looked over in time to see the burning husk of what was once an armored vehicle. Two turrets remained in control of the krogan defenders and were brutalizing the Tonka vehicles.

"Let's move!" Shepard announced and without hesitation he leapt forward from his position. His Revenant machinegun was firmly in place within his shoulder and he let streams of incendiary gunfire go in an attempt to keep the Ulrog and Garadok warrior's heads down.

The defenders were in total disarray now as they tried to engage their traitorous automatic turrets. They managed destroy one just as Legion took control of a third and began engaging them. More explosions tore up the defensive barriers and sent reptilian bipeds reeling through the windy sky. Those that weren't killed outright by the turret's blast were finished by Garrus, who ruthlessly selected targets of opportunity from on high.

"I love this rifle…"

Vorcha now poured from the collapsed tunnel to assist their clan overlords. They let out horrendous cries and a shower or spittle each time they opened their fanged, lipless mouths.

"Die asari, bitch!" one squealed as Aria leapt over one of the defensive barriers.

Her lip curled into a smirk as she eradicated the scamp with a biotic explosion, she turned gracefully and engaged two more with accurate streams of fire from her submachine gun. She aimed for their heads, because the vorcha could regenerate quickly just like the krogan. Both of her targets fell to the ground, limp and lifeless.

Simultaneously, all of the turrets exploded into a black smoke cloud, having been overloaded by Legion's systems. He and Olivia were no longer being fire at and rose to their feet. The geth removed his pulse rifle and charged forward. "Engaging hostiles!"

Olivia watched him trounce off in the direction of the fight. It must be nice to be a machine and not feel fear. She swallowed with some difficulty and forced herself to follow.

The fight behind the defensive barriers was now a mix of fighting with guns, knives and bare hands. The Urdnot krogan charged their foes, completely intoxicated by their blood rage. It was a sight to see as they battled with one another, slamming fists, feet, shoulders and weapons into each other with immense force. Shepard saw as one Urdnot warrior reached down and grasped an Ulrog soldier by the throat and tore out his esophagus. He rose up with the flesh in his claws, letting out a hardy battle cry only to be blasted by another's shotgun.

Vorcha clamored out of the tunnel, hissing and screeching. A trio of the vermin was caught dead in Shepard's sights. He let go with a heavy stream of fire. The rounds tore through the vorcha, but even with so much damage being done their bodies immediately began to attempt to rebuild the damage he caused at the cellular level. However, with incendiary ammunition they would have no such luck. Two of the little beasts burst into flames, letting out a horrendous cry, the third was killed when his head was eviscerated by the gunfire.

Shepard was deadly, but he was no butcher and so he quickly dispatched the two vorcha who were in flames.

Purple aura enveloped two krogan and they were suddenly and unexpectedly pulled into the air. Looks of confusion crossed their scaly faces, but it didn't last long as several barrels were turned on the victims and they were shot to death. As both lay dead, floating in the air, Aria released them and they dropped flaccidly onto some rubble.

Reegar jammed his jagged blade into a krogan's chest, wrenched it free and fired a five-round burst from his rifle point blank into the face of his target. The krogan let out a spurting grunt and fell backwards, dead before he hit the ground. The quarian dashed forward, rolling under the attack of another krogan who swung with the butt of his rifle. As he passed he attached a high-explosive sticky-mine to the krogan's knee. The krogan turned and approached the Marine with a perverse grin.

"I'm going to grind you into dust, little quarian," he whispered threateningly. His yellow eyes were torn to his lower extremities at the sound of the beeping mine, but before he could do anything the explosive detonated, sending his dead body reeling into another krogan who was simultaneously blasted by a shot from Garrus, who still poured accurate gunfire into the fray.

Two vorcha squeaked and cried out in pain as their porous, slimy skin seared with immense pain as super heated plasma rounds from Legion's pulse rifle impacted their miniature forms. The geth was relentless, firing on the two until they were dead.

Olivia was right on his heels, but appalled by the bloody sight before her. Krogan were tearing one another a part in a medieval bloodbath. It was a level of violence she had never seen nor imagined. With near horror she looked down into the defensive area as krogan ripped each other limb from limb or fired blasts of their overpowered weapons into each other from absurdly close ranges. In the middle of it all was Shepard, who seemed to flow seamlessly through the melee. He twisted his way around enraged krogan, discharging his firearm into their bodies until they collapsed in a bloody heap. He drove an elbow into a vorcha's skull, knocking it to the ground where an Urdnot krogan crushed its chest beneath a heavy boot. It amazed her how easily he moved in the midst of it all.

She'd read his psyche profile. He'd seen countless battles on many worlds, even before he'd ever undertaken this insane mission against the Reapers. He was the son of two Alliance officers, the hero of Elysium, the man who'd heroically defended a human colony during the Skyllian Blitz. And there was so much more than that. But all soldiers had to see psychiatrists or mental health professionals after traumatic combat experiences and his trials had been recorded. He'd said he abhorred killing, preferred any alternative, but she could see now in the middle of all of this that he was truly alive in the middle of a fight and that anything he said to the contrary was just denying a nature he'd been born with.

She'd dragged herself to the fight, willed herself to follow Legion toward the fray, but now that she was here she couldn't force herself to be a part of it. It reminded her of a feeding frenzy between alligators or crocodiles. It was brutal, barbaric and disgusting. They ripped at each other, their own kind, with the sort of ferocity she'd only seen in animals. But that's what they were. Beasts good for only killing, she'd thanked the powers that be for the genophage now as she watched them in action.

When it was all said and done the field, especially behind the barriers, was awash with the pale green blood of many krogan. They lie strewn across the battlefield, some with limbs torn off or riddled with shrapnel, some with lifeless eyes staring toward the heavens and others whose hulking frames lay motionless, sprawled over a fallen structure. It was a mess; Shepard, Reegar, Legion, and Aria had been close enough to the carnage that they all wreaked of krogan guts and had been splashed with their blood and the blood of the vorcha.

Shepard surveyed the carnage; sweat poured down his face and his throat was parched from the action and stung as he breathed in after inhaling so much dust in the melee. He could barely step anywhere without stepping on the body of another. As he looked around he realized there was also many dead Urdnot warriors, but he was glad to see that all of his team had made it through in one piece. Tusk had also survived.

"Looks like I missed the dance," Garrus commented as he arrived.

"How convenient to be sitting up in some tower," Aria mocked. Garrus looked at her, but said nothing. Now wasn't the time.

"What a battle!" Tusk cried out. "It was fierce and there were many great warriors. I ripped the jaw of one clean off, but not before he drove his blade into my shoulder!"

He let out a deep, booming cackle of laughter as he looked over the bloody charnel house around him. His lips rolled into a krogan's smile. "This has been a good day," he announced with immense mirth.

Shepard narrowed his eyes. He felt like saying something, anything, but knew it would fall on deaf ears. If this was Earth and these were humans such a battle would be a travesty. So many dead, especially those on your own side and one would hardly be able to call it a victory, much less a 'great day'. But these were krogan and this was the sort of fatalist activity that was hastening them toward their extinction. He sighed.

"We need to get inside," Shepard exclaimed, he used his forearm to wipe some of the sweat from his face.

"Let's have a look," Tusk moved toward the entrance. A vorcha's body lay dead, slumped against the tunnel entry and blocking his bulky figure. He grabbed it unceremoniously and cast it aside as if it were refuse. Kal'Reegar and Shepard followed him in, careful to avoid the bodies of the fallen.

Olivia sat down, exhaling as if all of this was for naught. Her hands cradled her youthful face and she looked over the carnage once more, shaking her head in disgust.

"What's your problem?" Aria asked.

"Nothing," Olivia snorted, not bothering to look at Aria.

"You don't like all the killing," Aria inferred.

"What's to like about it?" Olivia asked rhetorically.

Aria only grunted, gave a curt smile and turned away from the woman. Garrus walked over and looked down at the brooding Cerberus officer. "Everything all right?" he asked genially.

"Yes. I just can't get over how brutal they are to each other," Olivia explained, surprised to hear herself conversing with the turian.

"Different strokes…" Garrus muttered.

"That shouldn't apply to something like this. Don't they see what they're doing to each other?" she looked up at the turian who stood casually, his rifle clenched in his three-fingered grasp.

"They see it. They revel in it. It's what made them successful against the rachni, it's what made them rebel against the Council and it's what brought the genophage upon them. But it's not in them to change and it's not our place to expect it anymore," Garrus observed pessimistically.

Their conversation was cut short as Tusk and Shepard appeared from the interior of the tunnel once more. Shepard's Revenant machinegun collapsed into its smaller form and he placed it upon his back. "We're going to blast our way through. Looks like the vorcha had almost finished up. We'll use their charges to finish the job."

"The sooner we get done here the better," Aria said dryly. She kicked a rock errantly and licked her dry lips.

"Let's just hope we're not too late."


	15. War Chief

**Chapter Fifteen: The War Chief**

"Fifteen seconds," Kal'Reegar announced coolly. The group of Urdnot krogan stood silently behind Shepard's team. They may not have been speaking, but Shepard could see the spark of anxiousness in their eyes- they wanted to save their clan leader and so did he.

His eyes passed over each member of his team. Kal'Reegar was calm and composed; the crack upon his face covered half his mask and undoubtedly made it impossible to see out of the right side. But beyond that he seemed unaffected by the violence or the bloodshed that had transpired earlier.

Garrus also seemed at ease, though he had not slung his rifle. Intermittently he would scan the surrounding area through his scope to ensure no reinforcements would show up. It was that sort of professional thoroughness that Shepard respected in the former C-Sec officer. He was alert and keen to continue the mission. He too, had a vested interest in saving the Urdnot clan leader.

Aria was irritated, the facial markings upon her brow were furrowed from the aggravation of being on Tuchanka, of having to take orders, having to fight for someone else's cause even. Or so Shepard surmised as he looked at her from the corner of his eye. He still wasn't entirely certain he could trust her, though she had performed well during the fight against the opposing krogan clans.

Legion's emotional state wasn't even worth noting. Did he have emotions? He stood resolutely beside Garrus, the light upon his head gazed around the surroundings but he did so in such a way as if to suggest curiosity. But Shepard was hardly certain a machine could express curiosity. Nevertheless, Legion had again proven himself a worthy member of the team. His technical skills had been instrumental in hacking the defense turrets and turning them against their enemies. Without those turrets, it was doubtful they'd have taken the defensive positions at all.

Then there was Olivia. She had been silent since the end of hostilities. She stood quietly with her hand on her hip and her submachine gun still in her hand. The barrel of the weapon tapped her thigh endlessly and each time a krogan made even the slightest movement she cast a half-startled look in their direction. Shepard wondered how she was holding up and made a mental note to inquire about her mental state after the mission, but for now she'd have to suck it up and forge ahead.

His observations were interrupted by a colossal blast that sent a wave of dust, smoke, and pebbles rushing from the tunnel entrance. When it had cleared the group stepped inside. As expected, the final explosive devices had managed to destroy what was left of the rubble blocking the passage. Shepard and his team made their way down the hall, followed closely by the other krogan.

The air was stale and dust was carried along a faint breeze which ran toward the interior now that the blockage had been removed. No one spoke, only the sounds of their footsteps echoed in the dingy passageway. The walls were durable, thick, heavy-laden concrete and they had apparently been sturdy enough to survive the nuclear holocaust that had devastated the city which he and his team had been fighting in. Krogan architecture was rugged and built for durability over beauty or any sense of artistic creation. It was a fortunate consideration, given their current situation.

"How long is the tunnel?" Shepard asked, as their journey continued on longer than he had expected.

"Not much longer," Tusk's voice echoed up from the rear. He grumbled as if to indicate Shepard was impatient- that was saying something if it was coming from a krogan.

But then Shepard was feeling impatient, he was here to save a friend and he'd be rather upset to find that his friend had expired in the intervening time it took for them to get from the tunnel entrance to the shelter itself. Despite this concern, there were tactical considerations. One might think the best route given the urgency would be to sprint down the corridor and enter guns blazing. But Shepard didn't know what was waiting for him at the end of the tunnel and moving up steadily and quietly was the best approach.

As they proceeded onward the sight of the end of the tunnel came into view. Shepard could see pipes of light which cut through swaths of heavy dust clouds and knew they were nearly at the terminus of the long corridor. As they grew nearer they could hear grunting, and shouting. Shepard and his team quickened their pace.

The shelter was really more of a reinforced auditorium. The doorway of the tunnel emptied into a large room with a surprisingly high ceiling and several prominent, thickset pillars. There was a ring of benches and tables which surrounded an elevated stage in the center, where a destroyed stone podium had once stood. Along the circular ceiling there were minute slits which let sunlight stream inside in tiny slats of light. Shepard and the others were surprised by the sight and halted in place when they reached the bunker.

There was a heap of bodies all throughout the interior and scorch marks all along the walls, floors, tables and chairs. There had been a sizeable battle within these walls and now no one seemed to be left alive. Well, no one except three krogan brutally beating on each other up on the dais in the center of the room.

Urdnot Wrex and two other krogan were battling with their hands and other extremities. All three were bloodied. Both krogan he faced were beasts, one with a gray hide and purple, thorny plating along the front of his head. That, Tusk told him, was Ulrog Crank- the Ulrog Clan Leader. The other, a formidable brute, scarred similarly to Wrex with leathery, aged, green skin and a pale orange head-plate with a single horn which had been broken sometime in the past was Garadok Galvank- leader of Clan Garadok.

Shepard watched as the two krogan allies fought Wrex with a viciousness he hadn't seen- surprising given the butchering he'd seen only minutes earlier. But Wrex was a shifty and potent fighter. He clenched his two dreadful fists and swung them together across the plated face of Crank. The krogan's face whipped back from the blow and as he turned to see his foe once more Wrex rocked him with another identical blow. He repeated the process several times, blasting Crank hard enough to draw yet more blood and cause the Ulrog leader to stumble backward and fall off the dais.

A roar from the other krogan, Galvank, drew Wrex's attention. He turned to see the Garadok leader trying to gather his rage, but Wrex gave him no opportunity. The seasoned krogan warrior dashed forward and threw his heavy shoulder forward, spearing his mighty body into his enemy. The two were launched several feet and came crashing into the ground beside the stage. Wrex wasted no time, rising up and mounting the fallen Garadok krogan, he delivered several powerful, devastating blows to Galvank's face.

Before he could do anymore damage he was struck by the bottom of Crank's foot. The Ulrog krogan was quick to aid his ally, if not a bit reluctant. Wrex rolled a few feet and leapt to his feet just as Crank smashed into him. The two locked arms and pressed against each other, growling and snarling as they did. Crank drove a knee into Wrex's mid-section, driving the veteran to the ground. But Wrex was formidable and he tossed the Ulrog krogan over his shoulder. As his he brought his view back to his front he caught a heavy kick in the chin from Galvank, who had slightly recovered from the beating Wrex had given him only a moment before. The blow sent Wrex reeling.

Shepard stepped forward, intent on assisting his friend, but a scaly claw reached out and grasped his shoulder. He turned quickly to see Tusk holding him back. The krogan shook his head. "This is a good battle. Let them finish."

Wrex leapt to his feet just in time to catch Galvank charging into him. He pushed the Urdnot krogan back several feet before Wrex was able to dig in and hold his position. There, interlocked, the two fought for control of each other. Galvank let out a roar, but Wrex didn't seem to pay it any mind. Instead, he saw an opportunity. He drove his fist into the neck of Galvank, who coughed and choked from the blow. In that moment, while Galvank was distracted, Wrex drove his clawed fingers into the eye-socket of the Garadok clan leader. The krogan howled with pain as Wrex wrenched his eye-ball out and cast it aside. He dropped to the ground flailing and clenching at his bloodied face.

A curt laugh escaped Wrex's lips, but was interrupted when Crank drove a fist into his shoulder hump. The Urdnot clan leader stumbled forward a bit and Crank charged toward him. Wrex whirled around with great force, simultaneously drawing a savage blade. He faced Crank just before the Ulrog leader made contact and as he did he drove the blade upward, through the krogan's chin. Crank's head jerked back from the force and the blade jutted from his snarling jaw. His body shook violently; Wrex twisted the blade violently and tore it from the krogan's head.

Crank crumpled into a bloody mess, still shaking uncontrollably. Wrex was merciful; he drew the blade across the Ulrog's throat, cutting short his misery- much to the chagrin of the watching Urdnot clan.

"Wrex!" Galvank stood resolutely, but shivered slightly from the wound Wrex had delivered. Thick, green blood ran down his battle-hardened face. His mouth was tight and curled into an angry sneer. "I'm going to slaughter you!" He drew his own blade and readied it.

The two krogan approached each other slowly, and then circled one another a few times before Galvank made the first move. He swung his hefty blade with great force, but Wrex countered it, and then swatted aside the following strikes. Galvank was sloppy; his missing eye made things difficult for him and the blood rage made him thirst for Wrex's blood.

Wrex was a competent, sagely warrior. He harnessed the krogan blood rage, used it to help him instead of blind him. It made him barbarous and violent, but powerful and resilient. As a result he was able to tip the balance in many fights, most notably in the one that left all of Galvank and Crank's men dead and only the three leaders left to face each other.

Again the two lunged at each other and a dizzying display of strikes and slashes were delivered and blocked by them both. Galvank scored a lucky strike, drawing his blade across Wrex's armored right bicep. The slash was strong enough to cut through and leave a gash on Wrex, but the Urdnot krogan hardly seemed to notice it. Instead, he countered with his own flurry of attacks which left Galvank reeling and stumbling backward.

He recovered for only a moment and Wrex was on him again. He struck first with great force, and then delivered two quick stabs which Galvank could not block; the blade drove deep into his shoulder and then his chest. He let out another howl of pain and attacked, but his attempts were fruitless. Wrex stopped each strike.

Wrex realized now that Galvank was finished, he had no hope of winning and to continue would only be toying with the defeated Garadok leader. He needed to finish him and he needed to do it promptly. He would give the krogan a good death.

"This is the end of your clan, Galvank," Wrex said calmly. This infuriated the Garadok leader and he charged. Wrex expected the move and also charged forward, but just before the two clashed he dove down and grabbed Galvank's legs. With a quick, powerful motion he threw the attacking krogan over his shoulder. Galvank landed with a heavy thud on his back behind Wrex, but before he could do anything else Wrex was on him. The Urdnot Clan leader drove his thick knife into Galvank's chest, piercing the heart. He yanked it free and Galvank let out a hefty gasp and blood spurted from his lips. Wrex lowered his aim and drove the blade down again, with increased vigor. The tip tore through the krogan's flesh and sliced deep into Galvank's second heart. He jerked for a moment under Wrex's crushing weight, more blood oozed from his wide lips and then his eye went blank and his body went limp.

Wrex was silent for a moment, then with bloodied fingertips he reached out and lowered the lid of Galvank's one remaining eye. "You were a worthy foe."

The victorious Urdnot leader rose to his feet, took in a deep breath and then let out a massive victory roar, his arms splaying out beside his fierce, thickset figure. When he was done he turned to see Shepard and his group. He moved toward them.

"Shepard," he greeted with a nod.

"Good to see you, Wrex," Shepard responded.

Wrex's eyes surveyed the group that accompanied Commander Shepard, seeking familiar faces. He saw only a few and one which he immediately recognized from his past, long before he'd met Shepard.

He drew his shotgun from his back, its electronic sound as it extended echoed in the open air of the bunker and he aimed it at Aria, who had clearly recognized him as well.

"Aleena," he greeted with a sly smirk, just as he discharged his firearm at her, to the alarm of everyone assembled.

But Aria was fast; she drew a biotic barrier up in front of her and shielded herself from Wrex's attack. She used that same biotic barrier as an attack against the krogan. The wall blasted forward, smashing into Wrex. It sent him flying across the room into a group of tables and chairs.

Immediately, every krogan firearm in the room was trained on the asari. She dropped her hands, but the biotic glow still surrounded her slender figure.

Shepard stood with his mouth agape; much of his team looked the same.

Wrex erupted from the wrecked tables and chairs and let out a jolly, booming laugh. "Better luck next time!" he shouted from across the room.

Aria's cold demeanor broke into a smile then, the first real one that Shepard had seen. His brow curled into a look of puzzlement as Wrex arrived before them. The scarred krogan signaled for his troops to lower their weapons and they obliged.

"What just happened?" Shepard asked curiously. His eyes darted back and forth between the asari and the krogan.

"Remember that story I told you a long time ago, Shepard? The one about an old asari friend of mine from my mercenary days," Wrex nodded at Aria.

"Vaguely," Shepard admitted, scratching his head.

"Well, this is her. The only asari too tough for me to kill and not tough enough to kill me," he grinned devilishly.

"Okay…" Shepard wasn't quite sure he understood the strange moment the two aliens were having.

"Aleena, you and I will catch up later," Wrex said. Aria only smiled and nodded. He sensed the urgency in Shepard's presence. "Shepard, what brings you back to Tuchanka?"

"We need to talk," Shepard insisted.

Wrex snorted and looked behind him. He motioned his head in the direction of the stage. Shepard followed him across the room, noting the two formidable dead krogan. The two passed to the other side of the dais, well out of earshot of the rest of the assembled personnel.

"How'd your mission go?" Wrex asked, though his voice remained without concern.

"I accomplished it, but not without a lot of good people paying the price," Shepard conceded solemnly.

"Grunt…" Wrex muttered expectantly.

Shepard nodded.

"Was it a good death?" Wrex questioned with a fire in eyes.

"Yes." Shepard nodded and let out a sigh.

"So what's this about then?" Wrex changed the subject back to the intended one.

"I need your help, Wrex," Shepard told him resolutely. "I'm coming up against something big. Bigger than anything before."

"I'm sure you can handle it, Shepard. I've got my own battles to fight," Wrex told him, motioning to the two dead krogan clan leaders.

"I can see that. But this battle, this is more important than that," Shepard urged seriously.

"So you say. But there is nothing more important than unifying the clans and saving my people from themselves," Wrex responded icily.

"Wrex, unifying the clans won't mean anything if we don't win the fight against the Reapers. Saren and Sovereign were just the beginning. They're going to wipe out all of sentient life in the galaxy if we don't stop them. The krogan won't mean a damn then," Shepard pressed.

"Oh and how do you plan on defeating them?" Wrex asked with interest. A claw reached up and scratched the side of his face.

"I… I don't know yet. I don't even really know what we're up against," Shepard confessed.

"Hah," Wrex grunted. He put his hands on his hips and shook his head. "You haven't changed a damn bit, Shepard. Still charging headlong into a suicidal situation you don't even fully understand. Fearless. Stupid. That's what I like about you."

There was silence between the two. Wrex wanted to help, Shepard could see that, but there was a distinct line drawn across his heart… or hearts. It was his dream, his duty to unify his people. He wanted to stop them from their path to extinction. He wanted them to focus on breeding and regain their strength. He wanted them to have a place among the Citadel races and not to be looked at as the scourge of the galaxy, or be judged as barbarous lizards bent on killing each other until there were none left. But Wrex had to recognize the importance of what Shepard was going up against. If the Reapers weren't stopped, none of his plans would matter; none of them would come to fruition because they would all be dead.

Wrex looked at him seriously, his red eyes taking on a gravitas the human rarely saw. "Shepard, you're asking me to give everything up. All the progress I've made all the blood I've spilled- all of it."

Shepard shifted his weight and crossed his arms. "I'm not making you do this, Wrex, the decision is yours. I'll understand if-" he was cut off by Wrex's laughter.

"Not making me, huh? You show up on my planet and blast your way in here then tell me there's some damn threat that's going to destroy the entire galaxy, krogan be damned, and that's not making me?" Wrex stepped forward and glared at Shepard. "Saren and Sovereign was one thing, I always knew there was going to be something much worse. I'll help you, I have no choice."

"And what about your clan?" Shepard asked.

"Garadok and Ulrog were our fiercest competition. With them gone, things should be quiet for a while. My brood-brother, Wreav, will be left in charge. He's a damn traditionalist, but he can hold things together. Hopefully he won't screw things up too bad while I'm gone," Wrex disclosed with a deep exhale. "But you'll owe me for this one."

Shepard nodded. "I will, Wrex. I will. Thank you," he expressed sincerely. "We'd better get going."


	16. Of Crew and Things

**Chapter Sixteen: Of Crew and Things**

The heavy sound of Wrex's footsteps echoed within the briefing room as he paced back and forth. His scarred visage was contemplative, but the warrior's eyes were keen and he had taken in every sight aboard the new Normandy. It impressed him.

"Very nice, Shepard," he praised. "It seems dying was the best thing to happen to you."

Shepard offered a weak nod. "I'm glad you're with us, Wrex," he proclaimed. His arms were crossed and he leaned up against the central console in the room.

"What can you tell me about the mission?" Wrex asked pointedly.

"There isn't one. At least not yet," Shepard explained. "We're researching information on the Collector base we destroyed in the hopes that it will reveal something about the Reapers. Until then I'm just trying to put a team together."

"Or until the Reapers come calling," Wrex pointed out with a smirk.

"Yes," Shepard agreed.

"Shouldn't you be talking to the Council? Trying to get them or the Alliance on your side?" Wrex questioned.

"The Council won't listen, they think Sovereign was just a geth flagship and that the whole Reaper story was just made up by Saren to dupe them into following him," Olivia answered. The irritation when referring to the Council was evident in her tone.

"And Cerberus is our savior, right?" Wrex asked contemptuously with a snorting chuckle.

"Cerberus is doing more than anyone else. While your little band of lizards is busy slaughtering each other we're trying to stop the greatest threat to the existence of all life," Olivia seethed. Her cheek twitched slightly from her pent up aggression. She still hadn't gotten over what she'd seen on Tuchanka.

The edge of Wrex's lip curled from her impertinent remark, but he contained himself. "I thought you weren't working for Cerberus, Shepard."

"I'm not. The Illusive Man is a reluctant participant. Think of him as an investor. He sought to control me, manipulate the events to fit the outcome he most desired. I straightened that out," Shepard expressed.

"Oh? How did you do that?" Wrex asked with keen interest. Shepard must have put a bullet in the businessman.

"He wanted us to take the Collector Base rather than destroy it; he wanted us to turn over all the technology to his people so he could take advantage of it," Shepard told the krogan Battle-Master.

"And you blew it up?"

Shepard nodded. His eyes were cold.

"Ha-ha, Shepard, if there's one thing you're good at- it's pissing people off," Wrex proclaimed exultantly. "So where do I come into all of this?"

"It's going to be a tough fight ahead. I need the best," Shepard told him earnestly.

The krogan war chief scratched at the scales upon his face. "And you've got the best," Wrex replied, referring to himself. "If it were anyone else…" Wrex was referring to the fact that he was on the ship. It was an old friendship that brought him back under Shepard's command. It wasn't that the krogan didn't believe in the Reaper threat, but he truly felt Shepard could handle it without him. He had done so with the Collectors easily enough. Yet the human seemed adamant about Wrex being a part of the team once more and Wrex felt as though he owed him something. He had always felt an extreme sense of loyalty toward the man and it had been impossible to say no to him back in that bunker on Tuchanka.

"I know, Wrex," Shepard conceded. He was aware that Wrex had begrudgingly accepted the mission, but he also knew that the krogan would give everything he had for the duration and it was that exact quality that he needed.

"If that's it then, I'll be in the armory if you need me," the Urdnot clan leader grumbled. He lumbered out of the room, leaving only Olivia and Shepard remaining.

"Well, I have reports to file as usual," Olivia announced after a moment of silence. She made for the door but Shepard's voice stopped her. "Yes, Commander?"

"Why'd you leave the Alliance?" he asked with interest and suddenness. The question caught the Cerberus operative off-guard.

"That's a difficult question to answer, Commander," she said with hesitation.

Shepard rose from the console he'd been leaning against and offered an interested expression.

"I… Well I realized that they just weren't doing enough to protect humans," she stammered.

"And human interests in politics too, I imagine," Shepard probed.

"What? No, no, I couldn't care less about politics, Commander," she defended herself.

"No?"

"No. I don't care about the decisions bureaucrats and corrupt fat-cats in the Alliance council make. What bothered me were the rules, the red tape, the laws, the regulations that prevented us from doing our job," she expressed emotionally.

"The rules are in place to prevent people from breaking the law, rules of engagement stop soldiers from committing war crimes, there are regulations against our fleets impeding upon the boundaries of another Citadel race in order to preserve sovereignty," Shepard countered.

"That's fine, but not when it means sacrificing the lives of the innocent because a ship crossed over some imaginary line in space!" Olivia shot back with fire in her green eyes.

Shepard stood back a moment and clasped his hands behind the small of his back. "What happened?"

She let out a deep breath to calm her nerves. "I was assigned the SSV Waterloo on my first tour away from dry-docks or a rear echelon posting."

"I didn't think you ever served aboard a warship."

"I'm an intelligence officer by trade. I analyze reports and signals intelligence for the higher-ups that make the big decisions. I got tired of it and wanted to do my part out in the traverse. I wanted to help stop all those batarian slavers and scum bags from the Terminus that were raiding unprotected colonies," her voice was level now; she seemed sapped of her earlier emotional strength. Her voice was glum and almost seemed embarrassed, like the idea of doing her part was a stupid one.

"That was a good thing you did, doing your bit," Shepard offered, but the compliment did little to cheer up the young woman.

"Anyways," she continued. "We received a distress call from the MSV Herschel, a Kowloon class freighter that was in transit between Eden Prime and Elysium. They were being pursued by slavers," her voice trailed off as she looked away for a moment. She brushed a stray strand of hair from her face and continued. "We were en-route to provide assistance, but we didn't get there fast enough. The slavers had boarded the ship and captured everyone inside. We pursued them through the system but they escaped into turian space."

"You didn't inform the turians that batarians had crossed into their territory?" Shepard asked with a furrowed brow.

"We did more than that. We requested permission to pursue them. God knows as soon as they made FTL we wouldn't be able to pursue them and the turians sure as hell weren't going to get to them before their core was spooled up," Olivia recounted sharply.

"Crossing into other species' territory, especially in a warship, is pretty controversial," Shepard noted.

"Yeah, exactly what our superiors told us. Said they'd forwarded the request to turian high command. But unsurprisingly they told us to screw off. I pressed our Captain to pursue, but he was on the fast track for Admiral and had no intention of screwing that up by disobeying orders," Olivia fumed. She shook her head with disdain.

"That's a tough spot to be in, Olivia. He didn't want to risk an inter-species incident," Shepard pointed out.

"To hell with that! He didn't care about any damn inter-species incident; he was just covering his own ass. Hell, it's not even like he'd have been discharged for doing it, they'd have given him a slap on the wrist and maybe he would have waited a year or two longer before they gave him that Admiral's star. Big deal. He cared more about his own damn promotions than the people aboard that ship," Olivia explained derisively.

"You can't be certain that was his motivation."

"Shepard, there were children on that ship," Olivia continued, the emotion in her voice had returned. "We could hear them… when the people were desperately pleading for our help over comm.-channels just before the batarians took the ship. I could hear the kids crying over the mic. It was terrible." She looked away again, her slender hand rose up and her delicate fingers reached out and pressed upon the bridge of her nose, stifling a deep urge to shed tears on the victims' behalf. "Children, Shepard. If there's one God damn thing the Alliance should be doing it should be protecting defenseless little kids instead of worrying about politics."

Shepard was silent. He had nothing to say. She was right, he agreed. He was well aware of the shortcomings and the pitfalls that came with the Alliance's defensive practices and procedures. He knew about the bloody mess on Mindoir, and there were countless stories that mirrored that one. But it was also the risk colonists took when they reached up into the stars, they were taking a massive gamble by settling worlds far away from the protective umbrella the Alliance provided. Humanity had spread out far too far and left the Systems Alliance military spread too thin to adequately defend them all.

"Look, Commander," Olivia broke his thoughts, the tempo of her voice had normalized once more and the ring of her professional demeanor returned. "I have a lot of reports to file. I need to take care of it."

"Dismissed, Olivia," Shepard said with a nod of his head. The Cerberus officer briskly exited the briefing room, leaving Commander Shepard to think about what she had said.

"So all this time you've been playing queen on Omega, huh?" Wrex questioned in a mocking tone. He stood with his arms crossed at the base of the staircase just below the engineering deck in the bowels of the Normandy. The faint hum of the Normandy's fusion reactor and Tantalus Drive core could be heard, even in this little hideaway that Aria had taken up residence in.

"Playing queen? I ran that place with an iron fist," she expressed seriously, leveling her eyes on the krogan, her old mercenary comrade. "There was only one rule."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it before," Wrex waved his hand errantly in front of his wide reptilian skull. "And now you're working with Shepard?"

"Yeah."

"Why?" Wrex asked suspiciously.

"I made a deal with him. He helped me get rid of the bastard that took Omega from me and I hitched along with him and his team," Aria explained matter-of-factly. She sat against a small table nearby a cot. Her slim arms reached behind her, using the table's surface to prop up her weight.

Wrex groaned. "Aleena," he murmured menacingly. "If you double-cross Shepard…" his voice trailed off and he leaned in closer so that she could hear him. "I'll tear out your spine."

Aria was quiet; a mischievous glint appeared in her wild eyes. Then a smirk appeared upon her ageless, beautiful face. "Making threats you can't guarantee?"

"Oh, this one is a guarantee, Aleena," He whispered. His cold, red eyes stared into hers and she could tell that he was serious. They had been old friends and colleagues, but Aria could tell all of that was gone. The krogan turned to leave but stopped for a moment when he heard the asari speak.

"It's Aria now," she told him.

"Whatever," he responded with a huff, he hadn't even bothered to look at her. A moment later he climbed the steps up toward the engineering deck, leaving Aria to her own thoughts and solitude.

Shepard sat on the end of his bed rubbing his eyes methodically. He was exhausted; he'd hardly averaged five hours of sleep every twenty four hour period. He'd been running himself ragged since he left the Cerberus station where he and Garrus had made their recovery.

His cabin was silent, only the reverberation from the ships antiproton thrusters which carried the Normandy along at sub-light speed could be heard. He welcomed the quiet; it was such a startling contrast to his second home- the battlefield. A place where the staccato of gunfire rattled the brain and the sound of dying men and women was enough to unnerve even the fiercest, most seasoned soldiers in the galaxy.

He cast off his undershirt and boots, and then slid back on the rigid mattress. It wasn't built for comfort, despite all of the other accoutrements Cerberus had afforded when constructing the Normandy- they'd purchased a rather stiff and uncomfortable mattress. But it was enough for him, he was a grunt, a soldier in the infantry and a man who had become accustomed to finding sleep wherever and whenever he could. He'd spent his share of days sleeping in soggy swamps, barren, dust-ridden worlds, and even in zero-gee with no atmosphere. He'd experienced it all; so a bed was a very welcome feature of the SR-2.

In time he drifted to sleep. His eyes closed lightly and as time progressed he entered the REM phase of his slumber. Dreams drifted into easily into his mind.

"_Shepard," a voice stopped his progress, the accent was distinctly Australian. He turned to answer the call from a person he'd come to trust completely and care for deeply. "I know that we probably aren't going to make it back from this, but I want you to know that this was more than just fooling around for me. I… you mean something to me." Miranda Lawson uttered these words with a degree of difficulty. Her eyes, normally cold and calculating, seemed to be pleading with Shepard. They were soft and shimmering as if she fought back tears, or emotions she'd lived an entire lifetime without ever experiencing. _

_Shepard smiled warmly at her admission. He'd never thought her capable of expressing herself in such a way. Indeed, the entire affair had been an awkward one. But they had managed to find one another, even amidst all the stress and bloodshed. _

_Their feelings for one another had started subtly. Miranda had spent two years putting him back together, all the while considering what the man she was attempting to rebuild was all about. He was touted as the perfect soldier, something Cerberus had tried to create on their own by way of questionable experiments. But she had watched a bloody, destroyed mess be reconstructed into a man who led with an intense fervor she had never seen, nor felt. His confidence and utter dedication to a mission that would likely claim his life had intrigued and ultimately inspired her. He was steadfast in his duty to mankind and the rest of the galaxy. He was willing to hurl himself at the Collectors and the Reapers even if it meant his life. _

_He'd been delicate with her, but stern when it was necessary. He showed her that she owned her accomplishments and that she was a beautiful, intelligent woman, that her genes were only the beginning of all of that. She had made herself who she was, not her DNA or genetic code. And she had seen in his eyes the intense care he held for her and the desire too. _

_To Shepard, Miranda was the strong backing he'd always felt he'd needed, but never seemed to have. Each time he'd entered her office and she turned her piercing blue eyes upon him he felt a jab at the inside of his chest. When she spoke and expressed her confidence in his abilities it reassured him that all of his decisions had been the right ones and that he was following a path that would lead them all to success and survival. The first time she'd reached out and touched her hand to his arm he felt a shiver run the length of his spine. When her eyes took on a more caring tone and he saw in them a longing he had never seen in the eyes of another, he knew that what they were experiencing was much more than it's culmination in the engine room they were now leaving. _

_He reached up and tenderly ran his rough fingertips along her smooth skin. His finger traced her jaw-line up to her ear and he brushed several tendrils of hair back behind it. Then he ran his hand back down and cupped her velvety chin. "I feel the same and I promise you, Miranda, we're going to make it through this."_

_She forced a smile. She loved that he was trying to reassure her, but she didn't share his optimism. Her eyes sparkled as she gazed at him. Her hand reached up and covered his. Delicately she pressed it against her cheek and leaned her head toward his powerful hand. She held him there for a moment, closing her eyes and thinking about a life she could have lived with John Shepard if the two had been born in another time, or another place. "I believe you… John…"_

The intermittent chiming sound of an incoming message woke Shepard from his dream. He blinked repeatedly and rose from his prostrate position on the bed. He rubbed the side of his forehead with care and sniffed at the recycled air within his cabin. He let out a yawn and rose from his bed. His personal computer terminal was normally muted, but he had a functioning emergency channel which would sound off an alert prompt until a message on it was read. He made his way to the terminal and shut down the chiming, then proceeded to read the message.

_From: Liara T'Soni_

_Shepard, _

_I set my system up to send you this message if I didn't log in within a week's time. Utilizing the information you were able to procure when you helped me on Illium I have been hot on the heels of the Shadow Broker. I discovered several other leads through various contacts that led me to Tefnut in the Kalabsha system of the Nubian Expanse. Given the reputation of the stations orbiting Tefnut I figured I may be walking into a trap, so as a precautionary measure I programmed this message. My contact works at the bar on Geb Station which orbits the planet at the L5 Lagrange point. Please, Shepard, investigate and assist me._

_-Liara_

Shepard eyed the message curiously. He hadn't quite gotten used to the person Liara had become. He still thought of her as the innocent, naïve young asari he'd rescued from the geth in the Artemis Tau Cluster. He had done some digging after the suicide mission in some of Miranda's old files and learned that Liara had been instrumental in rescuing Shepard's corpse from the Shadow Broker, who had intended on selling him to the Collectors. He owed her for that and much more, so he keyed his intercom and instructed Joker to set a course for the Nubian Expanse.


	17. Within the Expanse

**Chapter Seventeen: Within the Expanse**

"We're clear of the Mass Relay," Joker told his commanding officer as the Normandy came rocketing into the Kalabsha System. "Heat emissions are in normal range… EDI lock down the port side stabilizer."

"Well done, Joker," Shepard commended as he stood behind the pilot's seat in the Normandy's cockpit. The flying of interstellar vessels was an art form well beyond Shepard's understanding. Fortunately he had one of the best artists in the galaxy at the helm of his ship.

"Just another day at the office, Commander," Joker relayed with a wave of the hand.

The Normandy had left Tuchanka in the Aralakh System only a few hours ago, yet in that short time they traveled half way across the Milky Way in order to reach their destination within the Nubian Expanse. It was an amazing feat and one only made possible by the technology of the Mass Relays, monolithic creations allegedly constructed by the protheans.

The secret behind how the relays were constructed was a mystery to all of the species who utilized them; however the functionality was clear enough. The relays created a corridor through space and time where there was virtually no mass- this allowed vessels to be transported between two points almost instantaneously. When a ship got near the relay the pilot specified the corresponding relay they wished to travel to and input the amount of mass intended to traverse the corridor, the relay then charged the ship with an immense amount of energy before propelling it to the corresponding relay.

The spectacular nature of the entire feat was never lost on Shepard and he had transited hundreds of systems over his career and subsequent missions. Yet each time he felt the surge of energy pulsate into the Normandy's hull and lob it across the galaxy it left him with a feeling of awe. One second he was gazing out of the canopy windows at the planets that orbited the star Aralakh, and the next moment he was in an entirely new system staring past his own reflection in the canopy at Kalabsha.

Even with the ability to travel at faster than light speeds, none of the expansion humanity had done would have been possible without the Mass Relays. To reach the closest star system, Alpha Centauri, at the speed of light would take four and a half years. Even when mankind had managed to multiply their speed beyond that of light transit times would have been too great to adequately explore the cosmos. Shepard found the entire subject staggering. Light traveled at 186,000 miles per second and mankind had taken their own ships far beyond that to levels exceeding 9,300,000 miles per second and it STILL wasn't enough to travel fast enough from point to point across the Milk Way. The Mass Relays had made interstellar travel into a reality, but Shepard still marveled at mankind's own achievements. How would the people who grew up riding horses or traveling in wagons react at the idea of such technology? The thought created a tiny smirk on the Commander's face.

"Everything okay, Commander?" Joker questioned, breaking the former Spectre's inward contemplations.

"Never mind, Joker," Shepard said as he renewed his gaze outside the cockpit of the Normandy.

The Normandy glided easily through space, passing particles and dust almost invisible to the naked eye. But the distant star Kalabsha bathed the frigate in its light and with EDI's help he could even spot their destination, which was now only a bright pock mark amidst the greater blotches of light in the universe. Tefnut, a hydrogen-helium gas giant home to many helium-3 refueling platforms and over a dozen orbital stations famous for their hospitality industry. The planet was well over several hundred thousand miles away, but the Normandy would traverse that distance in a few minutes.

Tefnut was named after the Egyptian goddess of moisture and rain. As a Jovian planet it was approximately twelve times the mass of Earth with an outer layer of molecular hydrogen surrounding an inner layer of liquid metallic hydrogen. This is all surrounded a solid, rocky core. The giant was a swirling mixture of yellows and browns that intermingled and formed stripes that ran parallel to each other across the breadth of the terrestrial body. Shepard looked closely at the planet, fascinated by what he saw.

Orbital refueling platforms dotted his vision, positioned in synchronous orbit just above the planet's thin atmosphere. Tefnut was a relatively small gas giant and as a result the gravitational pull allowed for the construction of many stations housing an array of species. Shepard wasn't sure how many stations orbited Tefnut, but according to Citadel files there were over 33,000 people living in orbit around the Jovian planet.

Their target was Geb Station. It was a major destination for travelers and thrill-seekers alike. Named for the Egyptian God of Earth, the twin brother of Tefnut, it was a station filled with extravagant casinos and lavish go-go bars where young asari maidens and human girls plied their trade as exotic dancers or companions available for hire. It was one of the many well known stations in the system and like its fellow establishments went by the motto "Like home, only better".

"We've got permission to anchor at docking cradle ten, Commander," Joker alerted Shepard. The Normandy traversed by several other cradles sleekly, easily the most impressive ship in the anchorage. "You know I've heard good things about this place. Guys I worked with back in my Alliance days had some wild stories about the women and what you could pay to do here."

"My memory is a little fuzzy, but I seem to remember all houses of ill-repute within the Terminus Systems were off limits to Alliance personnel," Shepard said jokingly. He turned to face his pilot.

"Oh I know," Joker cracked a smile. "But like I said, these are just stories I _heard_. I would never lower myself to that level. But since we're on the subject- how's about some shore leave? I'm uh, I'm trying to make friends with the new Cerberus crew and I think it would just be an excellent team building exercise… you know for us to troll the bright corridors of Geb and laugh at the sorry saps throwing away hard-earned credits on loose women."

"Maybe another time, Joker. We've got business," Shepard said seriously.

"All right, all right, just a suggestion," Joker surrendered. Part of him was dismayed over the Commander's response, even though he'd expected it and was only partly serious himself. Maybe another time? There wasn't going to be another time, there was never another time. Joker quietly contemplated how quickly his life had gone from hotshot Alliance pilot to a drone that worked too hard. But he attempted to put the thoughts far from his mind at the moment.

"Let's keep this simple. I'll take Garrus and Wrex, everyone else stays aboard the ship," Shepard stated as he exited the Normandy's cockpit.

He strode beyond the many workstations that flanked the gangway leading back toward the CIC and heard an 'Aye-Aye, Commander' from his pilot. He gave Joker's request some thought as he walked, even though he figured it was mainly a joke. There would come a time when the Lieutenant would need some sort of rest or release from all of the hard work he'd been putting in. Sometimes it was difficult for Shepard to remember how stressful their mission was. It wasn't as if he didn't feel it himself, but he dealt with it by forging ahead. Others may not have done the same.

"Shepard, Joker told us we're going with you," Garrus greeted as the elevator doors slid open and the hulking, scarred krogan and turian stepped out, nearly bumping into the commanding officer.

"Yes, we've got some work to do. I'll meet you both by the airlock," Shepard told him, pressing past and getting into the elevator that would take him to his cabin so he could get geared up in his armor.

"Got it," Garrus nodded. He and Wrex proceeded down the way Shepard had just come.

"You know, you're about the only turian I can stand to work with," Wrex suddenly said.

Garrus glanced over at his krogan companion, his mandibles flexed for a moment. "Glad to hear it."

"Most of the time… when I see a turian I want to pull out my sharpest knife and go to work, see how much effort it takes to get under that armor plating you call skin," Wrex elucidated morbidly. He added a chuckle a moment after.

"That's probably more than I needed to know, Wrex," Garrus replied with a sigh.

"Well, we're comrades aren't we? Part of the same krantt," Wrex explained himself, as if such a description was something he shared between friends. But perhaps it was something krogan discussed between friends. Did krogan have friends?

"Yeah, if you say so," Garrus agreed as he leaned up against the bulkhead waiting for Shepard. Oh how he hoped the human would be quick; conversation with the krogan was always excruciatingly awkward. But the former C-Sec officer often suspected Wrex made it that way on purpose, just to see Garrus squirm.

A thousand dreams came true and a thousand dreams were crushed everyday aboard Geb station. The lavish, elegant hallways and corridors were richly decorated with fine carpet, tapestries, and gilded light fixtures. It was extravagant, it was gaudy, it was the hospitality industry putting on a show to lure in the naïve and take them for all they were worth.

As Shepard and his team progressed through the station the Commander thought about how he had never seen anything like it. Geb was dangerous like Omega, but in a different sort of way. To an outsider looking in the station was a welcoming tourist destination. A place where a man could spend his days gambling at the tables or trying his hand at some quasar, then have a delicious anthropod for dinner with a fine bottle of wine with some expensive (or inexpensive) company, followed by local entertainment at a cabaret or play held by a station theatre troupe and then finish off the night in a dance club or go-go bar with mind altering liquids like Hallex or some other potent narcotic like Red Sand. But underneath it all there was a seedy underbelly where loan sharks preyed on gambling addicts and young courtesans robbed intoxicated patrons, a place where confidence schemes ran wild and people were tricked out of thousands of credits by way of fraud. Start an argument with the wrong people and you were just as fast to end up dead with a knife in your belly or a slug in your skull as you were on Omega. Wander down the wrong corridor or cross paths with the right folks and you might even find yourself in worse shape.

There was a litany of things believed to be happening on Geb. Rigged games, players forced to pay outrageous fines to the house because they broke silly rules they never knew existed, murder, extortion, prostitution, drugs, human trafficking. It was all alive and well on Geb, this was the Terminus Systems after all. But what Geb, and indeed all of Tefnut's stations, did well was to hide all of that nefarious activity below a thin veil of accommodation and fun.

"A quick search of data files relating to the Geb station bring up several advertisements from a salarian named Orialis, he is apparently an information broker here on the station and may have been Dr. T'Soni's contact," EDI chimed in over Shepard's ear piece. "He can often be found at Destiny Cabaret."

"Thanks, EDI, we'll start there," Shepard replied into the mouthpiece of his Kuwashii Visor.

Destiny Cabaret was a dimly lit gentleman's club, not unlike Chora's Den back on the Citadel. Neon lights pulsated to the rhythmic beats of the latest artist's tunes while a single asari dancer was strutting her stuff along a long stage. She moved to the music and her motions were fluid and perfectly in time with each note and chord that was struck. It was entrancing, intoxicating and maybe would have been beautiful if not for the dozens of slobbering customers lobbing credits at her from the side of the stage.

Shepard watched with interest for a moment as she dropped to her knees and turned her enchanting gaze upon him. Lovely, captivating blue eyes pierced him even from across the room and the dancer reached out to him longingly with one hand while simultaneously feeling every inch of her seductive body with the other.

"I think she likes you," Garrus noted with amusement as he watched the scene unfold.

The music picked up from its low, earthy tone, blasting into a high crescendo of guitar riffs and the dancer rocked her head back repeatedly, rising to her feet with intensity. She spun and twirled a half dozen times and then clasped onto a nearby pole which she utilized to complement her dance and intensify her suggestive maneuvers.

"It's been a while since we've been in a place like this," Wrex observed dryly.

"And with good reason," Shepard stated, shaking off the asari's spell. He began to scan the room looking for a salarian, but he had no description to go off. Fortunately there were three salarians in the cabaret; hopefully one would be who he was after.

He made his way to the bar, where a batarian casually cleaned a few glasses. With any luck, this batarian would know who he was looking for. "What can I get you and your friends, human?" the batarian asked in an uncharacteristically kind manner.

"Just a drink."

"What kind?" the bartender asked with interest.

"Surprise me," Shepard expressed as he leaned against the bar.

"Maybe not such a good idea after what happened at Afterlife," Garrus commented, referring to when the batarian bartender there poisoned Shepard's drink. He was aware that the likelihood of that happening here was pretty slight, but even the turian felt uneasy around batarians.

In a few moments the batarian returned with two glasses, Wrex had declined one for himself. The liquid was pungent and sour, but Shepard could detect the hefty amount of alcohol masked by the sour taste. He made a slight face as he swallowed the dismal drink and then paid the barman for his purchase, throwing in a considerable tip along with it.

"Thanks," the batarian gave a nod and revealed a sharp-toothed smile.

"I'm looking for someone," Shepard announced over the loud music. The asari on the stage had since left and now a human girl was writhing on the pole on the stage while patrons hooted and cheered her on.

The batarian's four beady eyes blinked repeatedly, cueing the human to continue.

"He's a salarian by the name of Orialis. You know him?" Shepard leaned in and asked somewhat subtly.

The batarian's ugly façade wrinkled into a contemplative display. "No. No, I don't know him," he said shaking his head. "Sorry, buddy."

As the batarian walked away, returning to his duties Shepard turned to look at the people within the club once more. His eyes darted back and forth between the trio of salarians present there. His gut told him that Orialis was one of them, but he didn't want to approach each one and ask. It was best to be subtle in pursuing this person and ensure he wasn't making it well know that he was after him. After all, searching for him could spook him and send him into hiding.

From the corner of his eye he saw the asari who was performing earlier rapidly approaching. She was seductively dressed, wearing only a pair of extremely small shorts and a corset. Shepard uncomfortably adjusted his weight as she arrived beside him. She ran a slender finger along the forearm of his arm, tracing her way up to his shoulder.

"I'm Allura," she greeted. "I saw you come in."

"Nice to meet you," Shepard said uneasily. He cast an uncomfortable sideways glance at his turian companion.

The asari cracked a sly grin. "So, what brings you to Geb?" she asked innocently.

"My friends and I are looking for someone," Shepard replied professionally.

"Oh, just business hmm?" she lightly closed paralyzing blue eyes and smiled more broadly. "So why come to a place like this. Maybe you're looking for a dance before you get to work, or maybe some fun?"

Shepard exhaled with some difficulty and rubbed the back of his neck just as the asari pressed closer to him. He could hear Wrex stifle a laugh. "No. No dancing, no fun, just business," he affirmed with a nod.

"That's no fun," Allura frowned and then turned her attention to Garrus. She wrapped her willowy arms around his neck and tugged on him delicately, bringing his face nearer to her own. "What about you, tough guy?" She gazed into the turian's eyes with an intensity he'd never felt before.

Garrus dropped the glass he was holding and it shattered upon the floor, but the asari dancer was unperturbed by the crash. She flexed her brows suggestively at Garrus who struggled to clear his throat. "I… uhh.." he stammered. "Ahem, I am…" he struggled to say. "Shepard?"

"Allura, with all due respect to your profession, we're not interested. We just need to find someone," Shepard broke in, steeling himself against the asari's provocative charm.

"Oh, fine," Allura allayed with a sigh, releasing Garrus from her grasp. The turian rose back up and pulled on the collar of his armor as if to indicate his body temperature was exceedingly high. "So who are you looking for?"

"A salarian by the name of Orialis," Shepard told her, glad for her help.

"Easy enough," Allura mentioned casually. "He's right over there." She motioned to a table across the club where a solitary salarian sat with an empty drink at the table, anxiously eyeballing many of the dancers that passed his table.

"Thanks for your help," Shepard gave her a nod, but she only looked at him expectantly. She crossed her arms and planted her feet. "For your trouble." Shepard handed her some credits. She smiled and started to walk away, until Wrex impeded her.

"How come you didn't ask me for a dance?" he questioned indignantly.

"You mean besides the fact that most krogan that come in this place are broke deadbeats?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Because you're ugly," she insulted him with a shockingly innocent smile and then strutted away from the group, leaving the krogan to grumble at her comment.

"Who's laughing now, Wrex?" Garrus chuckled.

"Bah, just a damn tentacle head," Wrex shot back as the maiden left.

"All right, let's go talk to this salarian and see if he can give us any clues to Liara's whereabouts," Shepard announced, fixing his eyes on the salarian. The trio marched their way toward him, but he was too interested in the women to notice their approach.

Shepard hoped he would shed some light on what was happening with Liara. She was a former member of his crew and important to him. Chasing after the Shadow Broker was like playing with fire. You never really knew who worked for him and you never knew if he was aware of what you were doing, which meant you could be walking into an ambush at any moment. It didn't help the fact that none of them had any idea just who the Shadow Broker was to begin with.

**A/N: Hope everyone is still enjoying the story. Let me know if you are! **


	18. On the Hunt

**Chapter Eighteen: On the Hunt**

"Orialis?" Shepard's voice was hard to hear over the din of the gentleman's club. But the sudden appearance of the heavily armored human and his alien comrades was enough to get the salarian information broker's attention.

"Can I help you?" he asked with a degree of irritation present in his voice.

"I hope so," Shepard invited himself to sit down. He pulled a chair out across the table from Orialis and planted himself down in it. Meanwhile Garrus turned his back on the conversation, intent on scanning the surroundings for any possible danger. Wrex took a seat just beside the pitifully small salarian.

"So what is it that you need?" Orialis questioned. Shepard didn't have all of his attention, as he routinely glanced over at a dancer passing by.

"I want information," Shepard stated firmly.

"I hope you have credits. Information costs money," Orialis told him unabashedly.

"That depends on how good the information is."

"Why don't you tell me what you need then?" the salarian suggested as he ordered another drink from a passing waitress.

"I'm looking for someone. An asari by the name of Liara T'Soni, I believe she may have passed through here recently," Shepard explained.

The salarian seemed surprised for a moment but quickly regained his composure. Shepard, however, noticed the change in Orialis' facial features. The information broker was quiet for a few moments as he surveyed the club and then graciously accepted the drink the waitress brought him.

"Well?" Shepard pressed impatiently.

"Dr. T'Soni, yes," Orialis began, sipping at his beverage. "She was here- she was seeking information about the Shadow Broker. Have you heard of him?"

"Yes. What sort of information was she after?" Shepard questioned interestedly.

"Not sure. Something about trying to find someone… a drell I think," Orialis exclaimed.

Shepard paused for a moment. A drell? She had never made mention of a drell when he saw her on Illium. But then she'd been rather cryptic about what she was up to. She had mentioned rescuing a friend, however. Perhaps this drell was that friend. "What information did you give her?"

The salarian's slick brow flexed a bit and his wide, round eyes glanced back and forth within the confines of the club before he spoke. "I sent her to someone that might know more."

"Who?" Shepard leaned forward; his tone was strong but still genial.

The salarian's jaw opened a bit but he spoke no words. He was quiet, thinking. A slender finger reached up and scratched the side of his head. It was clear he wasn't certain he wanted to tell the human anything.

"Who?" Shepard reiterated- his voice now more severe.

Wrex leaned closer to the salarian; his deep, dangerous red eyes reflecting a glint of rising violence. Orialis could see the blood lust in the krogan's eyes and was understandably perturbed by it. "A human here by the name of Daven. He's always rubbing elbows with rich people around here trying to scam them, but he always come across interesting information while he's doing it."

"And where is this Daven?" Shepard asked.

"I can arrange a meeting… just a second," Orialis' long fingers tapped away on his omni-tool sending a text message via an extranet link to his contact Daven. "Okay, he said he'd meet you behind the Golden Fleece. It's a casino he often looks for marks at."

Shepard nodded. "Thanks." He rose from his seat and began to leave before Orialis abruptly cleared his throat, indicating there was more to be said. Shepard turned back to face him.

"What about payment?" Orialis asked somewhat shyly. He wasn't sure what this human was capable of, but judging by his appearance he meant serious business.

Shepard tossed some credits on the table. "That should buy you a few dances."

Orialis watched as the human, turian, and krogan exited the club. His hand reached out and collected the credits. A few dances indeed. The orange glow of his omni-tool illuminated along his right forearm and he spoke into it. "Yes. It's Orialis. I just had some visitors poking around asking me questions- looking for Liara." There was an inaudible voice that replied to the salarian's initial words. "Oh yes, I've taken care of it. They're going to see Daven now. Just thought I'd let you know. Yes, yes, you're welcome."

Shepard and his teammates advanced down a long, rather grimy corridor directly behind a richly designed casino whose name was illuminated in a dozen different neon colors. "The Golden Fleece", a popular place to try and win a fortune and a place you were more likely to lose one. It was particularly popular amongst humans and volus and oddly, krogan weren't allowed to go inside at all.

A few meters away he could see three figures standing idly in the hall. Two were humans and the third was a turian. They turned and straightened up as they noticed Shepard's approach.

"You're the one looking for information on Liara?" the human, presumably Daven, asked suspiciously. He was an older fellow, with a raggedy beard and ratty old nightcap pulled low over his matted brown hair.

"Yes."

"And why is that exactly?" he questioned further, crossing his arms.

"That's for me to know," Shepard responded defensively.

"I'm not telling you a damn thing then," Daven reported hotly.

Shepard let out a sigh. "She's in trouble, she was investigating the Shadow Broker and she disappeared. I'm trying to find out what happened to her."

Daven shifted his weight, a wrinkled hand reached up and poked at his bristling chin. "What does it matter to you what happens to her?"

Shepard canted his head slightly. "She's a friend," he muttered guardedly.

"You're Commander Shepard, aren't you?" the second human- much younger- asked nervously. Daven shot him a bitter glance and told him to shut his mouth.

"I am."

"Maybe we should just leave it be, Daven," the other human pleaded.

"Shut your mouth, Ernst," Daven blurted then turned his attention back to Shepard. "I've got nothing to say to you, Spectre," he hissed.

Before Shepard could respond, the familiar sounds of weapons being drawn and extending to their full form were heard. Daven and his mates each drew guns. But for all their hasty movements and nefarious scheming they weren't fast or professional enough.

By the time they drew Wrex had already pulled his shotgun and Garrus had drawn his Predator pistol. Gunshots rang out in the dingy hall, the muzzle flashes illuminated the corridor walls and Daven and the turian dropped dead.

With blinding speed Wrex had snatched up the younger human, Ernst, by his throat, lifted him from the ground and slammed into the wall. The barrel of his shotgun was pressed firmly against the belly of the human who shrieked momentarily before the krogan tightened his grip on his throat.

"Why were you trying to kill us?" Shepard interrogated the youth casually, placing his hands in the small of his back and stepping closer beside Wrex's hulking form.

"I- I- don't know. We do dirty work for Orialis sometimes. He pays us to get rid of people he sends our way," the human struggled to say.

Shepard cocked his head and his face was wracked with bewilderment. "Orialis? But why?"

"I don't know! I swear!" Ernst proclaimed adamantly, struggling against Wrex's immense strength. His feet dangled several feet off of the ground.

"Looks like our information broker sent us into an ambush," Garrus observed with a shake of his head.

"Hmm, probably working for the Shadow Broker," Shepard added with a rueful shake of his head.

"I don't know who he works for or what he does," the young man affirmed. "I just know he pays us when he wants someone to disappear."

"Did he send Liara to you?" Shepard questioned menacingly.

"The asari?"

"Yes!"

"Yeah, uh yeah she came to us just like you did," Ernst professed with desperation soaking the tone of his voice.

"What you do to her?" Shepard's own tone was menacing now and it seemed that if the answer he suspected were given he would kill the young human outright.

"We just- just knocked her out and restrained her and then…" Ernst tried to gather more air into his lungs before continuing. "Then we gave her back to Orialis. I don't know what he did with her! I swear!"

"How did a bunch of amateurs like this get a jump on Liara?" Wrex asked with evident reservations about the human's explanation.

"She must not have been expecting it. As much as Liara has changed in the last couple of years, she's still a bit out of her element with these back alley meetings," Garrus commented. He holstered his side arm.

"Let him go, Wrex," Shepard commanded. "We've got a salarian to go visit."

"All right," Wrex responded. He cast the human against the opposite wall, where he slumped over from the impact.

"Oh thank you, thank you!"

"Where does Orialis work?" Shepard asked a final question.

"His office is two blocks down from the club he always goes to," Ernst explained. He was supremely thankful he'd been released from the krogan's crushing grip.

"Do yourself a favor, kid, don't warn Orialis we're coming to see him," Shepard stated, veiling a threat.

"And fine a new line of work," Garrus added.

The trio progressed back down the corridor in the way that they had come. Ernst stumbled to his feet, glanced at the bodies of his companions and then scampered out of the alley, intent on taking up the turian's advice.

There was an electronic chime that went off as Shepard and the others stepped into Orialis' office. They'd checked back at the gentleman's club before proceeding here, just to make sure he wasn't where they'd left him. He wasn't there, so now they came to his place of business.

"Ah, customers," Orialis' voice echoed from the back. "How can I-" he stammered as he exited the back room and saw Shepard and his two teammates standing healthily before him. "Was Daven not there?" he questioned, clearing his throat.

"He was there."

"Oh and- and he didn't give you the information?" Orialis struggled to say. He stepped behind the counter of his establishment and shifted his weight around.

"He certainly tried to give us something," Wrex offered with a grunt.

"Why did you try and have us killed, Orialis?" Shepard asked directly.

Orialis' jaw dropped. His initial fear had been correct. This _was_ Commander Shepard. He should not have risked it- he should have known a Spectre would easily dispatch his amateur thugs. "I didn't…"

"Right."

"I… I…" he didn't finish his sentence. Instead he made what could only be described as a foolish move. From below his counter he pulled a Carnifax hand cannon, quickly took aim and fired off a wild shot. It passed Shepard errantly and the former Spectre drew his own sidearm and fired a high velocity slug through Orialis' shoulder. The impact spun the salarian around. He dropped his handgun and flopped against the wall behind the counter. His blood began to ooze from the wound and he clawed at it, helplessly trying to apply pressure. The pain was excruciating.

Only a moment later and the turian was standing over him. His hefty, thick boot came down over Orialis' hand, pinning it against his body and pressing it against his wound creating more pain.

"Why don't you be a good boy and answer the Commander's question?" Garrus mused, glaring down at the wounded salarian.

"I can't," Orialis grimaced. He began to whimper from the pain as Garrus pressed harder on the wound. "He'll kill me!"

"Who?" Shepard inquired.

"The- the Shadow Broker!"

"So he's the reason you wanted us dead?" Garrus asked, he pushed down with his foot once more. More blood seeped from Orialis' wound and he cried out again.

"No… yes, I mean, I just figured he would since you're looking for Liara," Orialis tried to explain between whimpers.

"So what did you do with Liara? I know your thugs knocked her out and brought her back to you," Shepard told the broker. "I want to know what you did with her."

"But he'll have me killed!"

Wrex strode over to where the salarian sat, slumped against the wall with more blood gushing from his wound. He knelt down beside the salarian and looked at him seriously. "He's not here right now. We are. Make it easier on yourself and tell us what we need to know or I'm going to start enjoying myself," he threatened.

Orialis' big, black eyes blinked repeatedly at the krogan's threat. He was serious; he'd heard stories about krogans. He hadn't seen many on Geb station, but he knew they were vile, violent beasts.

"Okay, okay," he surrendered.

"That's more like it," Garrus responded, lifting his foot off the information broker's shoulder, much to Orialis' relief.

"Some… Blue Suns mercenaries came and picked her up. They were working for the Shadow Broker. Said they were taking her to some detainment facility on Yamm. I'm not sure why, but I do know that the Shadow Broker was offering a big bounty for that asari alive," Orialis managed to say, still gasping for breath. His fingers probed the gnarled flesh where the slug had torn a hole in his shoulder.

"She'd better still be that way," Shepard warned. "If you're lucky maybe someone will find you before you bleed out." The human turned and headed for the exit. Compassion was gone from his voice. He no longer cared what happened to the salarian. Wrex and Garrus followed suit.

Orialis watched them leave; he was powerless to do more than that. His eyes blinked repeatedly and he could feel his limbs getting cold. His heart rate quickened, he could feel it laboring to supply his body with an adequate amount of blood. His lungs gasped for air and his mind was a haze. He desperately fought against his eyelids, which felt like they were made of lead now and dead-set on closing.

Shepard and his team would head for Yamm. It was close, still in the Kalabsha system. A terrestrial world mostly composed of water with only a limited amount of land around the equatorial band. The planet was wracked by massive hurricanes, which made it unpopular for colonization. But pirates, slavers and mercenaries set up base camps there all the time. With any luck EDI would detect an anomaly and Shepard could storm the place with his team and recover his old friend. He feared for her safety and hoped she was still alive and well.


End file.
